


World of Tomorrow

by rednihilist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-14
Updated: 2008-04-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2131746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rednihilist/pseuds/rednihilist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he leaves, he leaves for good, or that's what everyone had thought. Now, seven years have passed and everyone's moved on. . . everyone but Lex Luthor, that is. Enter Tomorrow, mysterious alien superhero, and a world full of trouble. The story with flights, fights, but no tights. Kryptonian Leather will just have to do. (AU set seven years post-season two)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: ‘Smallville’ and certain characters belong to Miller-Gough et al. No profit is gained from this writing, only, hopefully, enjoyment.
> 
> AN: This story is incomplete and discontinued, but I still want it somewhere. (Has not been revised since 2008.)

In the days following his first appearance in the skies above Metropolis, there was a palpable feeling of excitement in the city. All anyone talked about was the so-called superhero. The papers and gossip rags, local and regional news broadcasts, online forums and databases, all seemed to be solely dedicated to the newly-coined 'Man of Tomorrow.'

By the third day, he was simply referred to as 'Tomorrow.'

Over the next few weeks, TV news segments and articles centering on his appearance, abilities, and vague personal history were constantly circulating. But no matter how hard they tried, how close the camera zoomed in, no one could seem to get a clear picture of his face.

The more he saw of this mystery in black and blue, the tenser he became. Every time Tomorrow was shown flying from a distance, something crawled down Lex's spine. If he'd had hair, it would have stood on end.

Then one day, two months after the hero's debut, a young, up-and-coming photographer from The Planet managed to catch Tomorrow, just as he was about to lift up into the sky after rescuing a young couple from a mugging.

When Lex saw that photo on the front page of the paper, above the crease and with an accompanying article by one Lois Lane, he knew.

Suddenly, all the questions he'd forcibly pushed to the back of his mind came flooding back. Seven years it had been, with not. One. Single. Word.

No one had heard from him, of that much Lex was sure. He'd talked to everyone he could think of who might possibly know what had occurred that long ago day, back in Smallville. And all he got were the same incredible, strange goings-on that always happened in that town. And Clark at the center of it. And now gone, disappeared, vanished. For seven long years.

What was he supposed to do now? Was Lex just supposed to go along with this? Ignore everything he knew in his gut was happening again, only on a bigger scale, and simply. . . pretend he didn't remember that face? 

He couldn't. Wouldn't. Clark's face had haunted him for over a decade, since the very first day he'd seen it, and Lex needed with every fiber of his being to know what the hell was going on. 

Clark could fly? 

The day he saw the truth, Lex stayed inside watching the TV all day. Practically every news channel displayed that same photo of Tomorrow, and he had a hard time not laughing. Evidently Clark had acquired some semblance of color coordination. Lex had then enjoyed a good hysterical guffaw over the mental picture of Tomorrow racing across the city in full-body plaid.

He wondered if Clark still wore plaid when he was himself. Was Clark ever himself, anymore? Or had that been left behind?

The next day, after having woken up that morning face-down on the sofa, remote gripped tightly in his left fist and a line of drool decorating his chin, Lex had one of his assistants look into it. And the file he'd later been given made him want to throw something heavy and breakable across his office. But he refrained.

Oh, Clark was still going around as Clark, only somehow he'd managed to get himself an entire college education right here at Metropolis University without anybody ever knowing it. And Lex would be a complete drooling idiot if he for one minute bought that back-story. What a crock of shit.

Well, it was somewhat reassuring to see that Clark's lies hadn't improved any over the years. They were just as thin and preposterous as they'd been from the start -- adrenaline, anyone? 

Lex was just going to have to walk into The Daily Planet bullpen tomorrow, go right over to Clark's desk, and get some answers. 

Oh, he'd figured it out. A long time ago, in fact. But that man owed him the truth, for Lex had lied for Clark for years. When they came searching the farm, looking into the explosion and the fuckin' kid's disappearance, who helped? Who made a deal with the Devil in order to save the Kents? And who was still paying for it?

No, Clark owed Lex whether he knew it or not. And it was time to collect.

***

Waking up was always the hardest part. Well, actually, falling asleep wasn't exactly a picnic, either. 

Anything to do with sleeping was torture, be he in the midst of it, or coming into or out of it. But having to drag himself to work bright and early after no sleep was, no doubt about it, the absolute worst. . . unless it was the look on Lois' face when he didn't get one of her jokes. It wasn't really his fault though. They always involved some play on words and a reference to some obscure event in recent history, and when the hell would he have had time to learn all of that?! Seven years was a long time, and so far he'd only managed to get up to 2008 and the presidential election of that year. And he'd thought the 2000 one had been a fiasco!

Lois had been designated his 'guide,' meaning she was basically volunteered to show him the ropes of the paper. It was of course hard to be around her at the best of times, never mind when she was irritable or just plain pissed off, or when she got it in her head that there might be a story lurking somewhere near. No, he took that back, chasing after Lois was the worst thing about his life right now. The woman had zero sense of self preservation, and he was constantly on point trying to simultaneously protect her and not give himself away. 

But every time he thought of giving up, he just remembered the look of astonishment on Martha's face, and the hug Jonathan had given him. It had lasted nearly a full minute, and every second of it made him feel guiltier and guiltier.

But they'd done well, it seemed. The farm had four hands working alongside Jonathan now, and looked just as good, if not better in some respects, as it had when it'd just been the three of them living there. Those were the good ol' days, when his worries had been about. . . such small things, it seemed now. 

No, not even Lois-wrangling or the guilt over leaving came close to the absolute misery of seeing Lex again. 

And he could only see him from afar. To be so close now, in the same city. . . a mere thought away, and yet somehow even farther than ever before.

He was no longer the boy Lex had known. He'd seen it in their eyes when they'd embraced him. The Kents knew his coming to the farm was goodbye. They were doing so incredibly well on their own. They needed no help from him now, none of them did, not the Kents, not Chloe, or Pete, or Lana, or even Whitney. Even the town had turned into something resembling normal. No more mutants, Jonathan had told him, not for a long while now. And looking into the man's eyes, he'd read there what neither of them would speak aloud: there had been no mutants since that day, seven years ago.

Since Clark had left.

He'd tried to give Jonathan something in return for the now long-gone motorcycle, but had known from the start nothing would be accepted. And it brought the reality home, for with that refusal he recognized his place. The Kents had always made their views on charity well known. It was pride and stubbornness, but it had always used to make him smile. 

But the thing was, they only did that when it came to outsiders, to those who weren't family.

And there it was, as plain as the Kansas sky. They insisted they couldn't possibly take anything from him; they both claimed they'd forgotten all about the motorcycle. It didn't matter anymore, they told him with brittle smiles on their weather-worn faces.

They wouldn't let him make it up to them. He was an outsider. He was not family. They would accept nothing from him.

He was not their son. He bore the name, and a more than passing resemblance, but he was not Clark Kent. He was a stranger, and when they'd all said goodbye on the porch, the two of them with arms around each other and standing next to the wooden swing, he on the ground looking up at them, it was like the last clod of dirt landing on that boy's grave. Every day more he was in Metropolis, that same dirt was being packed tighter and tighter down. 

Clark was nothing more than a name now. He, himself, was not Clark Kent, but neither was he "The Man of Tomorrow."

He was Kal-El of Krypton, son of Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van.

He was the only one of his kind for as far as both he and the AI could reach in the vastness of space. He was alone, and every day he became a little more alien. . . and forgot more of what it was to be human.


	2. One

It was true he didn't really have any friends, but then that had always been the rule. Clark had been the exception, and didn't that just sting. When Lex was drinking alone, he would stand and look out the windows of the penthouse until he literally couldn't stand. And then he'd sit down, and keep looking at the city from the 68th floor. It was amazing how insignificant and powerful a person could feel simultaneously. 

Lionel had died three years ago, but when he was drunk, Lex still found himself dialing the old man's cell phone number. He'd get that horrible tone and the mechanical voice telling him the number he'd dialed was no longer in service, and still, in his inebriated state he expected Dad to pick up and gloat about. . . something, anything. Nothing at all. 

He didn't really miss his father. It was just habit that had him drunk-dialing. 

Lex often found himself falling into memories of those days back in Smallville, living them out in his head when he had downtime, something he tried his damnedest to keep to the absolute minimum. If he didn't have something to occupy his time, he drank. And when he drank. . . he got maudlin and talked to himself, and cried while looking down on the city and wishing he were someone else.

He was pathetic, but the first step to overcoming was acknowledgment, so he was on the right path. Any day now, everything would fall into place in his life and it would all make sense, it would all have been worth it. Vindication.

He drank coffee and ate nothing before noon on the days that he had to go in to work. The other days, though, he made himself cook breakfast, and pour a glass of orange juice and a glass of milk, and sit down at the table to eat. He never drank the milk.

Some friend Clark had turned out to be. He'd lied and lied and lied, and every time he'd had the gall to look sad and hurt while doing so. He hadn't wanted to lie, but he'd done it anyway. And Lex couldn't forgive Clark for not including him. Sure, Clark kept everyone at arm's length when it came to those strange occurrences, but he'd told Lex often enough that they were best friends. Lex was supposed to be closer than all those other people. Wasn't he?

No, he couldn't forgive Clark, but then he couldn't forgive himself for so many of the things he'd done, either. It pretty much evened out. Lex was well aware of the fact he wasn't a good man, by anyone's standards. His hands weren't clean, but that's what happened when a person interacted too much with Lionel: they became whatever they were supposed to be, and each played a role in the man's grand scheme.

Lucas was Lex's contrast and competition. He was what had Lionel brought into the equation to spur Lex on again, when he'd begun to drag and stall. Helen, on the other hand, had been planted in order to finally bring home the fact that nobody ever could be trusted. On the honeymoon? No, always guard your back from all sides at all times, especially in bed. 

These days, Lex thought he'd learned his lesson from Lionel very well, too well. He trusted no one, and hadn't let anyone close in a long, long time. It was almost embarrassing how long he'd been celibate, and with no close friends or family, his only real relationships were those at work. With the staff. 

He was lonely. It was as simple as that. And every morning, in the few moments after just waking up, he let himself imagine what his life could have been like. He played the 'what if' game, and it was the happiest part of his entire day.

Oh, the scenarios always started out so elaborate and high-class. He and a gorgeous woman were beloved by all in the city, all of the world! They had wonderful children which the two of them raised themselves, no nannies or boarding schools in sight. And Lex named a daughter Lillian and his first born son Julian, and they all lived happily ever after.

Or he had many lovers, men, women, sometimes both, and lived the fast life again and had the best of everything. And every week, he and Dad met for dinner and long talks over scotch.

But the best one, the one he kept coming back to was the one where he still lived in Smallville. He'd erase all the years and go back to those few days when he'd lived on the Kent farm. That was during the time when Lucas had been 'gifted' the castle and the Luthor holding place, and Lex would imagine himself as simply staying on there. He would be a farmer, and a damn good one at that! Lex and Jonathan would bond of course and develop a revolutionary system of producing organic foodstuffs. They'd reap in their own set of millions and gain the respect of the people in Smallville and farmers worldwide. Martha would take Lex in and dote on him like she'd seemed to enjoy doing in those days, and he would no longer be viewed as the Luthor-spawn come to take away the town's identity. Lex would be accepted and he would be a Kent. 

The best part of that fantasy, though, was what he would be coming home to. He'd buy a house, or have one built or help build one himself, and he and Clark would live in it together. They'd play house. Lex would work, and Clark would do whatever the hell he wanted, and be successful and happy doing it, something with astronomy, perhaps. Then, at the end of each day, both of them would come back to that house and they'd just. . . be. 

He never really imagined the sexual side of things when he played this game in the mornings. He saved that for later. It always ended with him and Clark embracing and Lex getting ready to plant one right on those lips.

And before the illusion could completely fade away, Lex would force himself out of bed and into the shower.

Sometimes, imagining what could have been and what might still someday happen was all that got Lex out of bed.

Sometimes, he never got out of bed at all, just called in and had them cancel everything.

Every day, he wished Clark had never left, and that today would be the day he would come back.

And some days, Lex found himself wishing he'd never met Clark Kent, or he wished he'd just drowned in that river a decade ago.

Then Tomorrow came, and somehow everything was different when it was all still exactly the same.

***

Chloe was a reporter at the Gotham Globe, and Pete was working in the Metropolis City Attorney's office. Lana was married to a claims adjuster, and lived just outside Denver. She had a daughter and sold paintings she'd done of the local area. Whitney worked at North Metropolis Senior High, where he taught History and in the fall helped with the drama department's musical production.

They were all reasonably happy from what he could tell. Chloe and a few co-workers often went out for drinks after work, and she and a fellow reporter seemed to be getting close. Pete was focused on his career, but in a good and productive way. He had a golden retriever named Clark Bar and always took him for a long run in the mornings. Lana Poppe painted from her home in Golden, Colorado and cared for three-year-old Laura. Her husband seemed like a good man. He and Lana took turns at cooking, and Mark always kissed both Laura and Lana right when he got home from work. Just like in the movies. Whitney was busy during the day, crazily trying his best to guide and encourage his students, but in the evenings he often sat in front of his computer or his tv, or he read. On Thursday nights, he went to a bookclub down at the Fourth and Anders library, and always talked the most out of anyone else there.

It was Lex who worried him. Jonathan and Martha were doing just fine, as was everyone in Smallville, but Lex seemed to be stuck in a downward spiral. He never did anything to relax or have fun, unless you counted drinking himself into unconsciousness. No friends, either, it seemed. He read and he drank, and he went to social functions, where he drank more, and every Friday he went to his family's burial plot. And every time he came back to the penthouse where he lived, Lex slammed the door behind himself. 

Of course, he couldn't follow him during the day, so he wasn't positive, but he had the distinct impression Lex was drinking heavily at work too. It was in the way he walked, or glided, rather. It showed in the glitter of his eyes, and how he drummed the fingers of his left hand against his thigh. Lex was in trouble, but how did you save someone from themselves, when you knew they wouldn't want to hear anything you had to say?

How could he make things right?

That was one thing Jor-El had never told him, never downloaded into his brain. Interaction with humans was left up to him, and when in his whole life had that ever gone well?

As 'The Man of Tomorrow,' he was free in many ways he could otherwise never be. He'd given an interview to Lois as Tomorrow and it had been widely reprinted. It was well-known what he could do, and soon he'd give her a brief story of his origins, omitting everything to do with Clark and the Kents and Smallville, and the exact date of his arrival on Earth.

But he was under no delusions that those who still remembered would be fooled. He was sure to get a call or e-mail from Chloe the day of, and perhaps one from Pete. If he ever made contact with Lana or Whitney again, he knew they'd see it, maybe even put it together now without his help.

But Lex. . . Lex already knew. The man would probably just chuckle and raise a glass in salute before knocking it back.

He hadn't left Martha or Jonathan any way to contact him, although he supposed they would be put through here at the Planet if they tried. He didn't think they would. Smallville had always kept things to itself, and if anyone there suddenly got the feeling something was vaguely familiar about 'The Man of Tomorrow,' he was sure they'd simply shrug it off and never think on it again.

He'd used to be terrified of heights, but now, flitting through the rain clouds which hovered over the city today, he felt alive again. He slid past the southeast window of the Luthorcorp. building, watching as Lex methodically signed papers. A lean to the left and now he was heading towards downtown, where he waited for Pete to get in his car and head over the river on his way home. A few cars honked at him when he flipped over and under the bridge in a spiral, and he returned a child's wave before going higher. 

It was 5:26, and the school's parking lot was still relatively full. He drifted lightly down onto the main building's roof, and watched the people slowly leave in groups of ones and twos. Whitney was one of the last out, and was nodding as an older woman beside him gestured wildly with her hands. He walked with her to her car, and waited until she was on the road before moving towards his own. 

Tomorrow lifted his head up in preparation to rise, but stopped short when he felt eyes on him. Looking back down at the parking lot, he saw Whitney come to a stop and stare right at him. Wide-eyed and with a look of awe, Whitney then raised his arm above his head and waved at him.

He nodded back and took off, heading west to the Rocky Mountains. Mark Poppe was two cars behind a semi when it was cut off and started to tip over. Tomorrow caught it and gently set it right again. Some people had gotten out of their cars and Mark was one of them. The man reached for his cell phone and as he lifted it up, presumably to take a picture, Tomorrow met his eyes and very obviously smiled directly at him. He couldn't resist the surge of pleasure that he felt when Mark's mouth fell open and his phone dropped to the ground. While he stood staring, Tomorrow dashed back into the air. He saved a man from being shot in a convenience store in Kansas City, and in Chicago blew out an apartment fire that had engulfed three stories. When he reached Gotham, he flew a little more discreetly, drifting higher into the cloud cover. The Batman was here, and he had no desire to start a feud. 

He again perched on a roof, and waited for Chloe to leave the Globe. The bar she and her fellow reporters frequented was two blocks down and one over, and he scanned the usual route for trouble. It was Chloe and five others tonight, and he felt a smile creep over his face at the thought that she was so popular. This was the forum she'd been made for. 

Just as the door to "Bren's" was closing safely on her group, Chloe's laugh drifted out into the night air, and he replayed the sound over and over in his head as he pushed farther and farther up, breaking atmo and drifting above.

He shut his eyes and listened and when a woman's scream broke through, he gathered up the pieces of himself and once again became Tomorrow-- 

\--and dove back down onto the Earth to save her.


	3. Two

He received numerous requests for interviews. Every week, there were letters and phone calls and e-mails that Lex never saw, but were wholly devoted to getting him in the same room as a reporter or sixty.

Of course, he never gave any, ever. The last interview had been four years ago, and though the final article had heaped on the praise, Lex had hated everything about it. It was something Lionel would have done, and that was reason enough to scorn the practice entirely.

So, when a message from a 'csull_gg' was at the top of his inbox that morning, Lex actually did a double-take and hovered the mouse over the delete button for a good solid minute. But curiosity killed the proverbial cat and often brought great men low, and Lex was not immune to its wiles. 

"L,  
Our boy in plaid has returned in Blue, huh?   
He won't answer me. I've talked to Pete, and he didn't get through, either.  
It's up to you, and let that fool know what's waiting for him when he finally journeys east to see me. The bastard.

Best,  
C"

It was kind of anticlimactic really, and as he read through it a second time, Lex was again amazed at Chloe's ability to find anything. This had been a relatively private e-mail address, one he reserved for news on the Clark Kent search front, and somehow that damn reporter had not only found it, but had also managed to send him word that both she and Pete knew. . . about Clark. And Tomorrow. And Chloe, and Pete as well, also knew Lex knew. All that was left was for Ma and Pa Kent to barge into the room, and for Jonathan to threaten Lex with. . . whatever antiquated, homoerotic hate crime that town had concocted over the past few years.

He'd never forgiven that Scarecrow tradition they'd tacitly endorsed for who knew how long. Hell, Jonathan himself had probably strung up some poor freshman back in his days as the star of the town. But Lex would never forget the sight of Clark half-dead and coughing 'Help me,' while strung up and stripped and humiliated. And that today it still wasn't seen as the huge-fucking deal it was amazed and sickened him.

He'd been nice, though. Lex never took revenge on any of those responsible. He hadn't needed to. Four out of five of those former football players were falling right into the 'going-nowhere, best days are over, drink beer and work in hometown,' stereotype. The fifth, Fordman, actually seemed to be doing good things in his life now, so Lex was content to just keep a close eye on him. Once a bully, always a bully, but so far the teacher had kept his nose clean.

Lex debated whether or not to reply to Chloe, but eventually decided against it. She wouldn't expect one and he couldn't think of anything to say, so it was better left alone. She'd basically told him to corner Clark and call him on the bullshit, and that was already what he'd had planned.

For this afternoon.

***

It probably wasn't the smartest plan in the world, but it succeeded in doing what Lex needed it to do: make it impossible for Clark to escape unnoticed.

He'd walked into The Daily Planet building, taken the elevator up, gotten off and, after spotting his prey across the floor, had marched right over to the small desk with the nameplate declaring 'Clark Kent' worked there.

As he looked down and saw the clenching of a fist on the desk's surface, he smiled a real smile for the first time in a long time.

"Have a good trip?" Lex asked the top of Clark's head. "I hear the weather's nice in. . . where was it exactly that you ran off to, again? I forget."

Ball in Clark's court, and when he finally raised his head up to meet Lex's eyes, the smile withered on Lex's face.

Clark looked. . . strange. There was no better word for it. He looked hard and contained and cold.

He looked totally alien from that boy he'd last seen, and suddenly Lex regretted even coming here.

***

"All sorts of places, Lex," he replied. Quietly. He'd never hear the end of this from Lois as it was, so there was no sense in drawing even more attention to their conversation with loud voices.

"Ah, yes," Lex gritted out. "This is the part where you tell me you were on, what? Sabbatical? A very long walk?!" He cast a quick look at all the reporters surrounding them, and lowered his voice while leaning over the desk. "I won't be lied to anymore. You may not be who you used to be, but we've all changed. . . Clark." There was only the slightest pause before Lex said the name, but it was enough to get his point across.

Kal nodded his head and watched the other man squint and frown at him. Yes, he thought. That's right, Lex, put it all together and what do you get?

Abruptly, Lex straightened back up and unconsciously smoothed down his suit jacket. His face went politely blank, and he pitched his next words so everyone listening in would easily hear him.

"Why don't you come over for dinner tonight, Clark? We can catch up, and I'll make that recipe of Chloe's you like so much."

Kal felt his eyes widen, and briefly considered shouting, 'Look over there!' and making a mad jump out the nearest window. Chloe, too? He'd thought he would have more time before she found out, and still held onto the vain hope that if he never returned any of her calls or e-mails she'd somehow just. . . forget about all of it.

But this was Chloe, and she never forgot anything. And it was Lex standing across from him, raising his eyebrows to show he was still waiting for a response to the invitation.

"Uh, actually, Lex-- " he started to say, but trailed off at the look overtaking Lex's face. There was anger there, yes, and frustration, but also a sadness Kal hadn't anticipated. Before he could take it back, "Yes" came out of his mouth and into the world.

"Lovely," Lex replied with a shark's smile, all teeth and cold eyes. "Seven good? I'm not sure what time you get off work, here at the paper." And then one corner of Lex's mouth curled up even higher, and Kal knew he was being made fun of. Lex was daring him to say something about patrolling after work, but Kal wasn't stupid. Or petty.

"Seven sounds great. I'll take a cab over." 

"Yes, I imagine you will. Well," Lex said with a final glance around the bullpen, "until tonight then, Clark. I hope the rest of your day is pleasant." He made to leave, but then turned around at the last minute. . . as though he'd just remembered something else.

Kal didn't buy it for one second. Lex had that innocent look on his face, the one Clark had always teased him about back in Smallville. That expression made Lex look about a decade younger, and he knew it too. He was most definitely playing dirty.

"Chloe sends her regards." Lex again leaned over his desk, and this time his voice was barely a whisper as he said, "Next time you fly by, I'd suggest talking with her. She seems especially put out."

Then Lex once more straightened, gave him a last lingering look and sauntered away.

And left poor Clark Kent to pick up the pieces.

Just as the elevator doors shut on Lex, Kal spotted Lois coming towards him at a fast clip. 

He may have been a coward -- cutting Lois off by claiming he had a contact waiting for him across town probably wasn't the bravest thing to do -- but as Tomorrow soared above the Atlantic four minutes later, he was finally able to breathe for the first time since Lex had shown up at The Planet. And, hey, he managed to prevent an oil spill. Surely that made up for it.

***

When he stepped into his apartment, his routine was to check his landline phone's messages. Today, though, Kal bypassed the machine altogether and headed straight into his bedroom. He always wore his uniform, save when he was in the shower, and so he hadn't ever needed to devise any sort of hiding place for it. However, he wasn't going to wear it to Lex's tonight. Even though Lex knew, and had just confirmed that, it didn't feel right to keep it on.

So now he had to figure out where to put the damn thing, so that nothing would happen to it while he was away. It was a pretty bad neighborhood, and burglaries weren't uncommon here. He didn't want some thief to stumble upon Tomorrow's uniform and-- 

Well, it was just better to be cautious when dealing with something this important.

He ended up hiding it inside his pitiful dresser, behind the drawers. The thing was barely standing up at all, and tilted significantly to the left. The only things inside it were his underwear, socks and the T-shirts he never had time to wear anymore. In fact, he never had the opportunity to wear any casual clothes, not since he'd started all this, not since Tomorrow. Now, almost all of his time outside of work was devoted to patrolling, and if he weren't doing that or working, he was here lying in bed unable to sleep.

He'd always had problems sleeping, but it was much worse now than it'd been when he was a child. If he did manage to catch a few winks, he never came out of it rested or rejuvenated. Even in his dreams he tried to save people. Tried and failed. Screams and death rattles, and the thud and wet slap of human hands doing violence to human flesh were what he went to sleep to each night and woke up to every morning. 

It put those childhood nightmares of being alone in the dark to shame, and made the dread he'd used to feel about being the last man alive pale in comparison. Then, he'd just seen the aftermath. Now, he was hearing the destruction itself in surround sound. All. The time.

He never turned the shower hot when he used it, never bothered with it. He didn't feel cold ever, and it was stupid and pointless to waste the scant amount of hot water on himself, when others in the building could surely benefit from it more. His muscles never knotted. All the tension he thought he felt in his shoulders and back and arms was only a product of his imagination. Jor-El's AI had said so, even showed him the equivalent of an x-ray for his musculature. There wasn't a thing out of place, nothing wrong whatsoever. And nothing would ever be wrong unless Kryptonite were involved.

Five months after entering the training, he'd asked what his life expectancy was, as a Kryptonian on this planet.

The AI hadn't been able to give him a definitive answer. Nearest as it could compute, barring any "incidents with Kryptonite," as it'd put it, he could live upwards of several thousand Earth years. As long as the sun was yellow, Kal-El would live, and the most recent predictions put the changing of Sol to a red giant as occurring within five billion years. Sure, it could happen in four, but five was the general consensus.

Five billion years.

He tried not to think on it, anymore. After the AI had told Clark that. . . training had stopped for three weeks. Clark hadn't been able to do anything but cry and curl up into a ball. Eventually, the AI had said that it would be operational for as long as Clark needed it. . . that if he so desired, it too would be active for several billion more Earth years. 

It'd been small consolation, but it was enough to get Clark back up. 

Now Kal just kept himself focused on other things, always. He saved others, and he wrote for the paper, and he tried to shut out human suffering when attempting to sleep. 

And now he was getting ready to go over to Lex's, where he would no doubt get yelled at and mocked. Perhaps if he were lucky, he'd even get to see Lex hurl some of his extremely expensive sculptures and collectibles around his penthouse in frustration.

But no matter what, tonight he'd be in the same room as Lex, and he'd listen to the man's voice.

It was what made him go on, the thought of what might someday happen, that he and Lex might be friends again. Someday. Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow.


	4. Three

Lex arranged to have dinner already pre-made so that no one but Lex and Clark would be near the penthouse that night. It was some sort of casserole, but he honestly didn't plan on Clark even being there long enough to warrant the dish's existence in the first place. Lex was going to get that damn elephant in the room out of the way first thing, and if Clark was still anything like he used to be, he'd withstand the shouting and accusations and then promptly walk out. And Lex probably wouldn't see him again unless he, himself, sought Clark out.

So, admittance into Lex's sanctuary, calling him on the bullshit, and watching his retreating back. . . that was what was on the schedule for tonight, and in that order, too.

When the buzzer to Lex's apartment sounded at 6:58, he had to face the fact that something else had changed about Clark. He was early. Clark had never been early or punctual when he'd been in high school, and that he was now made Lex feel a bit uncomfortable. And nervous, for some reason.

Lex opened the door and stepped back so Clark could enter. As the other man didn't have any sort of jacket -- it had to be almost 100 degrees outside currently -- Lex simply closed the door behind him and walked into his home office, correctly assuming Clark would follow him. 

Taking a position in front of the large windows that overlooked the business district, Lex slipped his hands in his pockets and stared at Clark's reflection in the window as he began talking.

"When you left, I wasn't here. I'd been stranded on an island for three months, and by the time I was rescued and back here in Kansas, you'd already been missing for several months and your parents were being investigated." Lex stopped and asked, "Do you know any of this? Has anyone told you?"

Clark's reflection nodded, and his voice from behind Lex said, "I know some of it, only what was printed in the papers. Not what went on back in Smallville."

"Well, like I said, your parents had been about to lose the farm, and the police were investigating the explosion that occurred on the property." He shrugged. "I eventually bought the deed and gifted it to them, and with my father's help, I put a stop to any and all investigations into what had happened -- your disappearance, the explosion. . . it all went away. For a price."

Lex waited for Clark to ask the question, and not even a full minute passed before, "What price, Lex?" was asked.

He turned around to face Clark and stared him down, as he answered harshly, "The price of being my father's second-in-command. I worked for him and did what he told me to, and for what?! So that your family, your loving parents, wouldn't be homeless or even hassled. I looked out for them and I did it because that's what friends do." Lex found himself moving forward, jabbing his finger into Clark's chest and unable to stop himself.

"I took care of it, all of it. I looked out for your friends -- friends who hated me, by the way. Everything, because you weren't there to do it." He took a step back and breathed in through his nose a few times, trying to calm down a bit. "You left, and never told anyone why. It would've been different had something happened to you, but. . . " Lex broke off and looked Clark in the eyes again before finishing. "I hated being in that position. I was in my father's debt, Clark! And you put me there. Why'd you leave? I came back from Hell and you were just gone. And I'd thought everything in my life had already turned to complete shit."

Studying Clark's face, Lex couldn't tell what the other man was feeling at all. It was a blank canvas, with not even a hint in the eyes of what was going on inside that head.

Clark's eyes had always given him away before. And he'd always rushed to defend himself, to give Lex an excuse or a reason for all the insanity in their lives back in Smallville.

Back in Smallville.

And wasn't it fitting, really, that here in Metropolis they were both so reserved and tightly wound? This city had turned both of them into cold men who didn't know how to interact with anyone. At least Lex didn't, anymore, if he'd ever truly known in the first place. Clark was so different from every memory Lex had of him, that he might as well be a completely different person.

Maybe he was. Lex was coming to realize he didn't know much of anything at all.

***

He didn't know what to say. He was effectively speechless, and in front of Lex, of all people.

Lex, who'd always been able to cut him to shreds with just a few well-placed words.

"You know about Tomorrow, I take it," was actually what came out, and he judged it to be as good a place to start as any.

Lex's face took on an incredulous expression for a moment, before smoothing into a more blandly curious one. He nodded and raised his eyebrows in question. 

"Yes, I do. In fact, I'm pretty sure both Chloe and Pete Ross also know that you are. . . both Clark Kent and 'The Man of Tomorrow.'" Lex's face became colder and he growled out, "You're an alien, Clark? You don't think that was something I could've stood to 've known a whole hell of a lot sooner? From you?"

"Yes, well, you and everyone on this planet would have liked that knowledge, but, the truth is, I didn't tell anyone until I was 16. I told Pete because I didn't want to lose his friendship for good, and I still came close to doing that, even after. I never said a word to anyone else, you'll notice -- not Lana, or Chloe and, no, not you, either. I told no one but Pete. Ever.

"I'm an alien. I am from another planet, Lex!" He was getting angrier every second and started pacing around the room. "Do you really think that, if you had been in my position, you would've told me anything? No. You would lie and lie and do everything you could to avoid being found out. Once you start throwing around the word 'alien,' people tend to get a little antsy."

"I wouldn't have done anything to you!" Lex shouted. His face was red and he was waving his arms around. "You were my friend! I would have protected you. . . from everything!"

"No," he said, crossing the room and coming to a stop in front of Lex. "You don't get to judge me. I told lies to protect myself because that's what I was taught to do by my parents. I was four years old when I landed, and every day Martha and Jonathan told me how important it was that I not draw attention to us." He made sure Lex was returning his eye contact and said, "You were taught by Lionel, and some things you never overcome. It's conditioning. I did what I had to do, and I'm not going to stand here and let you make them out to be the bad guys." He unconsciously pointed a finger in the direction of Smallville. "They did everything for me, and I wasn't going to just disobey what they said!"

"Fine," Lex gritted out, obviously forcing himself to let it go. "You lied and," he took a deep breath and continued in a slightly calmer voice, "and I can even understand why, to some extent. But, Clark, you left! You ran away and stayed away for seven years, and no one heard anything from you! Don't tell me that your parents brainwashed you into leaving because I won't believe that-- "

"It was my birth father."

" --for one second." Lex abruptly took a step back and his eyes went wide in surprise. "What-- what do you mean your birth father? How did he get here? What are you talking about?!"

As always, whenever Lex felt overwhelmed, he gave in to his anger. He shouted and threw things and redirected the focus off himself and onto someone else.

"I had a ship, a space ship that I came here in, and it started. . . working one day. The day before your wedding to Helen, when they had to take me home and we said it was because I had a migraine." Lex nodded, looking completely shocked. "It wasn't a migraine, Lex. It was the ship's key calling to me, begging me to put it in the ship." He moved away from Lex and began pacing again because the next part would be hard enough to say, without having to look Lex in the eye while doing it.

"So I put it in, and I didn't tell anyone what happened until it was too late. Long story short, Pete stole Lionel's copy of the key and I put it in the ship, thinking it would destroy it. I had to destroy it, or else it'd-- " He stopped pacing and stood in front of the windows, right where Lex had stood earlier, and said in a monotone, "And the ship was destroyed. But it exploded and Martha and Jonathan were too near and. . . "

He couldn't finish. Lex had to have known what happened next. He was smart and would be able to put it together.

"And your mother lost the baby, didn't she?" Lex asked, coming up to stand beside him. They didn't look at each other, but just stood facing the city. The sun was setting, and streaks of orange and purple raced across the sky.

"I did run away at first," he said, without taking his eyes off the horizon. "But he caught up with me. Jor-El. My father. I'm from a planet called Krypton." He could feel Lex tense beside him, and the other man's breath began coming in shorter bursts. "It exploded, too. Destroyed by war and the stupidity of its people, and my parents were the only ones who thought to leave, come here to Earth and try to live.

"But they couldn't. It was too late, and they just barely managed to send me out before. . . " The sky had grown darker and darker as they talked, and there were no lights on in Lex's office at the moment. As the final rays of the sun began to disappear from the sky, he turned and went over to switch on the nearest lamp. It bathed the room in yellows again, and with the light he could see the strain and exhaustion in Lex's face, as the man looked out over the city. At his city, now that Lionel was dead.

When he'd read that, he hadn't known how to react. He'd had that first gut-wrenching feeling of loss, the same he had every time a human being died, but it soon passed. Lionel had been a truly horrible person, with very few redeeming qualities. He'd been an abusive tyrant, both in his personal life and his public one, and his death meant a great many people were better off in the world.

And now Lex never had to tear himself apart anymore in his attempts to get his own father to love him, to respect him. Both Lex and the world were free of Lionel Luthor, and beyond the fact that all life was sacred, Kal himself didn't mourn the man at all.

He stood behind Lex now, his eyes seeking out Lex's in the window glass. "All that's left of Krypton," he told him, "of my home planet, is a program my father developed. An AI, of sorts. It found me a few months after I ran away, and basically forced me to . . . train. I learned everything it could teach me, and when I finished, I left. But. Time was different there, and what I'd thought was only a few months was. . . actually nearly seven years."

Lex nodded, and his head lowered, breaking eye contact.

"Yes," Lex said, almost whispering, "I imagine that would be quite a shock." He turned around and spoke as he began walking closer. "You went home? And everything was different. What did-- what did your parents say?" Lex asked, stopping a foot away.

He sighed, and tried to think of the best way to explain what he'd realized in the Fortress. Focusing again on Lex's eyes, he finally just said, "I'm not who I was seven years ago. I'm not Clark Kent anymore." At Lex's skeptical look, he continued, "I know too much now, to still be that kid from Smallville. I'm still me, but I can't say-- I can't say I'm still 'Clark' anymore, when I think of myself. It doesn't fit, doesn't feel right. I'm Kal-El and Tomorrow, and I-- "

He'd been about to say that he hoped he could be Lex's friend again, but stopped before finishing. For some reason, he thought Lex didn't need to hear that from him right now.

Lex was standing there with far-away eyes and a wrinkle between his eyebrows. He looked like he was in shock, and Kal understood why. Hearing all of that, even if Lex had put a lot of it together already, had to be overwhelming. 

It'd been hard for him to process everything, too, and he'd had much more time.

"Why did you tell me all this?" Lex asked, eyes still staring at the wall behind Kal's right shoulder. "You didn't have to, by any means." He jerked his head back to look into Kal's eyes then, and seemed to be studying him closely for an answer.

To hell with it.

"I told you because I wanted to, because I felt you should know." He took a deep breath and breathed out, "Because I still hope we can be friends again. Someday, maybe."

Lex tilted his head to the side and squinted at him before smirking. Kal swore his heart gave a little flutter in his chest at the sight of that smirk, and when Lex next told him dinner was waiting for them in the other room, it felt even better than flying above the city.


	5. Four

They ate dinner together, he and Clark-- no, he and. . . Kal-El.

It would take awhile for Lex to get used to calling him that, even if it were just referring to him in his head. But sitting there, eating another one of Beth's meals, Lex was pleased to see that one thing hadn't changed about the man across from him in the years he'd been away: he still consumed enough food to put all professional eating contest competitors to shame. Clark enjoyed his food, that much Lex could see, but that didn't stop him from shoveling it in like there was no tomorrow. He grinned at his own pun and when Clark-- Kal looked up in question, Lex merely lifted an eyebrow and pointedly looked at the now -- for the third time already -- empty plate.

"Tell me how you really feel about the food, why don't you?" he joked. Kal got an embarrassed look on his face, but he didn't blush like Clark would have. Maybe being able to see him as Kal, and not Lex's former best friend, wouldn't be so difficult after all. 

Kal set his fork down gently and reached up with his napkin to wipe his mouth before responding.

"It's just been awhile since I've eaten something not made in a microwave," he said, his eyebrows still pulled together in embarrassment and a little crooked smile playing across his lips.

Lex felt his face go 'surprised,' but didn't bother to modulate his expression. Kal would probably be able to see the emotion on his face whether or not he tried to hide it, so there wasn't any point to subterfuge. Lex had secrets, true, but Kal had just minutes ago revealed what must be his most important ones, and that gave Lex an edge. . . should anything bad happen between them.

"How long, exactly?" Lex asked, daring Kal to hide again. Like Clark always had.

But he didn't hide. Kal met Lex's gaze head on and answered, "Seven years, one month, and 18 days." He looked down at his wristwatch. "And two hours."

Lex must have looked a complete fool as he sat there repeatedly blinking and generally resembling an owl. Then Kal's serious expression lifted and he gave a brief chuckle. Lex mock-glared at him before smirking back. It wasn't funny by any stretch of the imagination, but that Kal would try to lighten up the situation made Lex want to try, too. It'd been a tough enough night as it was. There was no reason to make it more painful by sulking.

Even though he wanted to. Desperately. But that's what he'd end up doing tonight instead of sleeping. Right now he was determined to take whatever joy he could and hoard it away. No telling when they'd next see each other.

"What, your mom and dad didn't guilt you into staying long enough that they could feed you up properly?" He snorted and continued, "Yes, as is the theme of this evening, things have changed, but I doubt neither your mom's culinary skills, nor her tendency to foist the products of said skills on anyone and everyone she encounters, has." Lex studied Kal's face and was taken aback by the pain he saw there. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "What's going on with your parents, Clark?" he asked, and visibly winced the second he realized his mistake. His eyes still shut, he tried to correct himself with a, "I'm sorry. Kal, what's wrong with your parents?"

When he opened his eyes, it was to find only an empty seat across from him. Whipping his head around in search of Kal, Lex finally spotted him over by the windows. It was the best part of living in the penthouse: the view from the 68th floor. And even Lex, who was terrified of heights, loved gazing out over the vast sprawl of Metropolis. 

Lex got up, laying his napkin on his seat before slowly walking over to stand beside Kal. The lights of this city at night, from this apartment's windows, always reminded Lex of the stars. You couldn't see them from here due to smog and pollution and light reflecting everywhere, including off the clouds, but Lex didn't need them. These lights were his stars, showing him where he came from. 

And where he was going.

"I'm not Clark, anymore, Lex. I wish-- " Kal's voice wavered minutely and Lex kept his eyes on the park across the street, not wanting to risk making the other man stop talking. "Every day, I wish I were someone else, something else. I wish I were still bumbling, shy Clark. Clark, who couldn't get a girl and always stared up at the stars, wondering why they affected him so much." He gave a humorless chuckle, and Lex winced again at the pain in it.

"Now we know why, don't we?" Kal continued, bitterly. Lex hadn't ever heard that voice say something like that, sounding like that, and all his fantasies of revenge over the years, of Clark being in pain -- as much pain as Lex had been in for. . . so long -- withered away and died. He didn't want Clark to hurt at all.

Lex risked a glance at Kal's face, and almost did a double-take when the light from the city reflected off the twin tears sliding down his face. He stood looking at Kal and felt lost and off-balance for the first time, really, since before his father died.

"Did you see them, Kal?" Lex asked, quietly. For some reason, it felt as though it would be wrong to speak any louder, as if some spell would be broken and Lex would find out he had really been alone the whole time -- that he'd just made this all up: Tomorrow, Clark and Kal, and their confessions. . . 

Kal nodded his head and continued to stare out the window. "I went to them first, you know," he said, and it wasn't the voice Lex had been hearing all night. It wasn't even the one he'd heard this afternoon at the Planet. If Lex were to close his eyes and imagine himself back in Smallville. . . in the Kent's barn loft, the voice he was now hearing would match his dream-Clark's perfectly. The deep, personal quality of it, the way it seemed to drift out of that beautiful mouth and right into his very soul, healing something broken in Lex that he never even knew existed. That was Clark's voice: just as perfectly vulnerable and beautifully self-centered as the rest of him.

Suddenly, Lex felt a prickling in his eyes and had to look away from Kal's face. It was too much, too soon.

"I realized even before I left the Fortress that I wasn't. . . but I'd hoped that maybe when I got there, the feeling would go away and things could be like they had been." Lex could see Kal's reflection in the window, and saw him shake his head and then lower it. "But I knew the whole time. It wasn't the same, none of it. Nobody's the same. Martha and Jonathan gave up a long time ago on their son ever coming back, and I think me coming there now just reinforced that." 

When he said 'Martha and Jonathan,' Lex realized he should have caught this earlier. Even back in his office, Kal had only referred to his parents as 'them' or by their first names.

"I did look in on you," Clark's voice said from beside him, and at that, Lex looked over again. Kal looked so much like Clark in that moment -- shoulders hunched and pain and worry contorting his face -- that Lex's breath caught in his throat. 

"I came here to find you because you weren't at the castle anymore." He looked up and met Lex's eyes. "You haven't lived there for a long time, have you?"

There was silence then, and Lex realized it hadn't been a rhetorical question. Clearing his throat, he dropped his eyes and responded, "No, I left. . . a few months after I got back, in fact." His left hand unconsciously came up to slide over his head as he reached for the right words. "It was never really 'home,' but after the island it was worse. Lonelier. Dad offered me another job back here, and I took it." A deep breath and then, "Things were messy then, and I was glad to be out of that town."

Lex looked out the window again and felt it when Kal's eyes left him. In the window, he could see as Kal licked his lips, and recognized it as a habit of Clark's when he was nervous. Kal was a strange blend of Clark and someone else entirely, and it made for an interesting puzzle. Lex was constantly searching for the pieces of his friend left in this man and, surprisingly, it didn't feel odd or wrong. 

The interest and curiosity he felt talking with Kal was the most he'd felt for anything in a long, long time. 

***

"I can't make it up to you," he said to Lex's reflection. "What you did for all of them. . ."

Lex nodded and slipped his hands into his pockets. He was the perfect picture of contentment and success, a billionaire business man enjoying the fruits of his labor.

But Kal could see he didn't enjoy it. . . at least, not as much as he should have. Not as much as Lionel had, or any one of his peers.

Lex wasn't happy in his life, with all the 'things' he had. He needed someone to look after him, someone to love him.

Someone he could love and take care of.

God, did Kal wish it were him Lex loved. 

"You're right, you can't," Lex said in a monotone. Then he turned from the window to face Kal and waited until their eyes met before continuing. "You can't ever repay me for all that I did; that's impossible. But since when have I ever asked you to?" Lex was angry and frustrated, and like every time when Clark had been on the receiving end of that blue laser stare, Kal found it hard to look at him. Lex was more powerful than Tomorrow in some ways, and verbally dressing someone down had always been one of them. Nobody could make it hurt so good as Lex.

"Kal," he sighed, "you're an alien, not a god; you can't fix everything." Again, Lex's hand drifted over his head and Kal found his eyes following the motion. That was the fourth time Lex had done that tonight. Before, he'd only done it when he felt anxious or frustrated. Smiling to himself, he thought it only fair that he make Lex a little less controlled, when every time he was around Lex, Clark became an idiot.

"Look, I know what you've been doing -- it'd be impossible not to, especially in this city. Chasing all over the world trying to rescue everybody. But don't you see," Lex said, looking beseechingly into Kal's eyes, "you can't keep doing that. People have to live, and part of living is making choices. And chance. You want to save people, I get that. I do. But it's not right to do it at expense to yourself." 

Lex stepped closer and jabbed his finger into Kal's chest, pinning him with his eyes. "'Things have changed?!' I don't see how anything's changed with the way you're acting! You're still trying to save us all from ourselves, still feeling guilty about everything that goes wrong." He sneered and made a mocking face that Kal finally understood to be Lex's imitation of him. "'Oh, woe is me! No one loves me and I'm such a burden! Boo-hoo!'" His face went back to anger and he jabbed Kal's chest again for emphasis. 

To tell the truth, while on one hand, yes, he did feel Lex was being cruel and exaggerating. . . like he always had. . . on the other, Kal also found it amusing. Inappropriately so, but still. Of course, that didn't keep him from laughing, if only on the inside. He was smart enough to know chuckling, or even just smiling, at this moment would be in every way imaginable a very, very bad thing to do.

"You were never responsible for half the shit that went wrong in Smallville, and you're for damn sure not at fault for the world's problems! Stop feeling sorry for yourself and smarten the hell up, Clark!"

Then he stepped back, breathing hard and red in the face. In fact, Lex was flushed over his entire head and his eyes were burning in their intensity. At that moment, he wouldn't have been at all shocked to find out that Lex had x-ray vision, his eyes so focused it felt like he was flaying the skin from Kal's bones.

"Tell me how you really feel about it, why don't you?" he asked. Lex looked stunned and disoriented for a moment, but when Kal gave him a small smile he relaxed and smirked back.

"Nice callback," he said. "The memory's still working, I see." Then Lex got that evil little smile he remembered from long ago, and studied Kal a little more closely before asking, "Just how much can you remember?"

"Oh, just some odds and ends, you know." Kal put on his Lois'-dumb-partner look and scratched his head, saying, "What was the phrase for 'unhand that woman' in Yoruba?" He shook his head in mock-forgetfulness and shrugged at Lex apologetically. Halfway through the charade, though, he cracked up and started laughing. Lex actually smiled a real smile, and shook his head at the goofiness of the situation.

And Kal drew up short when he realized what they'd just done. They'd joked around like Clark and Lex used to. . . back in Smallville. Only, this time they'd laughed about Kal's abilities, and him basically showing off. 

They'd never been able to do that before.

Lex moved away from the window and walked over to the bar on the other side of the room. He held up a decanter of something in question, and Kal just smiled and shook his head.

Pouring himself a glass, Lex asked, "Are you affected by alcohol at all?" He replaced the silver top, and set what Kal had figured out was scotch, back down. Picking up his drink, Lex slowly made his way back to the table and resumed his seat. Kal followed and sat back down across from him, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He tilted his head back, breathed in deeply, then looked at Lex.

"No, I'm not," he replied. "Actually," he considered, "I think it might be able to affect me eventually, with enough time and in huge quantity, but. . . " He shrugged. "I've never been successful in feeling anything, the few times I've had anything to drink. Although come to think of it, that's probably because I was only drinking two or three cheap beers."

Lex raised an eyebrow. "Clark Kent drinking? Was this illegal, underage drinking taking place while I was there, or. . . did this happen after you left?"

Kal gave a rueful smile and said, "Long before you came to town, actually. Pete had the great idea to take his brother up on an offer of free booze, one time. For us to take the offer. See," he said, dropping his pose and leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, "Pete covered for Jacob once when he came home drunk. And so, in return, Jacob said anytime Pete wanted any alcohol, he'd get it for him. No questions asked."

Lex's smile grew, and pretty soon he was laughing. He set his drink down and put his head into his hands, shoulders shaking in laughter.

"Pete asked you?" he wheezed out. "You? When was this? Surely Chloe would have been a better choice. Pete's known you since, what? Soon after you got here, I imagine." He lifted his head and shook it back and forth, still chuckling and muttering to himself. 

"No, this was in sixth grade," Kal told him. "Chloe didn't move there until the next year, and I guess-- " He, too, gave a little laugh. "I guess he just wanted to drink with someone so badly, even I looked good. I don't know who was more surprised when I said 'yes,' him or me."

That set Lex off again and Kal grinned. Lex was laughing and he knew for a fact that that didn't happen often. Since he'd been back and checking in on him, Kal had never once seen Lex laugh. Or chuckle, or even genuinely smile. He occasionally smirked but that was about it.

And they were here, in Lex's apartment, laughing and joking around.

Just like old times. Sort of. 

Only better.

***

The thought of a young Clark Kent sneaking out with Pete to drink crap beer was making Lex laugh like a hyena.

From the beginning of this evening to now was such a change in atmosphere, it was staggering. They'd begun by shouting confessions at each other, and now were laughing over a story from Clark's childhood. It was almost perfect, in the same way that any interaction with Clark -- or Kal or whoever this man was sitting across from him -- was perfect.

Which is why it shouldn't have been a surprise when something happened to ruin it. Shouldn't, but was.

Lex had raised his eyes to meet Kal's, and was opening his mouth to say something when there was a breathless feeling, followed quickly by the reverberations of a large explosion nearby. They both turned to look out the window, and Lex could just barely make out the flames and falling debris before he was up and crossing to the window.

It was a few blocks down -- somewhere near Banks and Wright streets, Lex guessed -- and the blowup must have been massive. The fire was only just now falling down from the initial blast upward, and it had already been a few minutes since the explosion.

He and Kal stood side-by-side, echoing their positions of less than 30 minutes ago.

Looking out his window on the scene, Lex knew the evening had come to an abrupt end. He looked over at Kal and saw an intensity there that made him shiver.

"I have to go," Kal said, and this time it wasn't Clark's voice. This low rumbling was Tomorrow, Lex realized. 

A hero.

Lex nodded and put a hand on Tomorrow's shoulder. As he turned to face him, Lex nodded again and said, "Go. We can talk again another time." Then he dropped his hand and looked back outside just as a gust of air blew against him. A split second later, a blur streaked in front of the window. . . on its way towards the fire.

Knowing it'd be heard, Lex quietly said, "Be careful, Kal," before going to pour himself another drink.


	6. Five

With both Clark's disappearance and the explosion being looked into by the authorities upon his return from the island, finding any peace or harmony was an impossible task. The shrink he'd seen at the hospital had advised meditation or yoga, but he was of the mind there was no better way to relax than seeing Clark and sitting down with him on that dusty couch up in the loft.

But there was no Clark there.

And the loft no longer belonged to the Kents. It was Lionel's property now, and Lex should have known. He left the good things in his life alone for months, and his father came in and took them all. . . and twisted everything into something unrecognizable.

All of Lex's money was his own again, though. He'd hired the best lawyers for this sort of thing, and Helen was out of the picture forever, whether or not she was still alive somewhere. It didn't matter to Lex, anymore. She'd proven herself to be just like everyone else. . . everyone but Clark.

First, he tried it on his own. He made contacts, he bribed and cajoled, and when that wouldn't work, he issued threats left, right, and center. He attempted to forge a new set of documents for the property rights, but that, too, fell through. Finally, as a last resort, he went to his father and asked him for it outright.

Lionel laughed at him.

Then Lex's father went on to explain all of his reasoning behind what he'd done, turning it around to make himself appear the beneficent ruler merely looking after his peasants' welfare. 

When Lex, enraged, shouted at him and asked him why he wouldn't just burn the whole town to the ground, for all the good he was now doing it, Lionel stopped smiling and quietly said, "Because this hurts you so much more, Lex. This makes you vulnerable and open to my offer."

Lionel wanted Lex to come back to the company as his right hand man. All of this, shutting down the Plant, and buying up property all over the town, and calling in residents' loans after he'd finished hijacking the bank. . . all of it was just so that Lex would take the position at Luthorcorp. It didn't even have anything to do with anyone in Smallville; they were just pawns in Lionel's constant game with Lex.

He couldn't do anything else. God knows he'd tried. 

Lex took the job, and true to his word, Lionel called off the hounds. The town was barely even alive anymore, but Lionel did leave them alone.

Over the years, Lex plugged in his own money in an attempt to reboot Smallville's economy. He did it anonymously because he wasn't stupid, and he made sure help came in slowly, gradually building up and expanding over time -- to get them used to it.

Eventually it all worked out. Three years after their son ran away, Jonathan and Martha Kent's farm became the first of many in the area to again begin turning a profit -- the farm that had been in Jonathan's family for generations.

Without them ever even knowing Lex had been involved. 

It was his gift to them for all the kindness they'd shown him when he'd lived in Smallville. They came to his wedding, even if he did turn out to be marrying a succubus, and when Clark didn't show up, Jonathan had stood in for him as Lex's best man. He'd even looked happy to do it.

If only Lex's life at Luthorcorp could have gone as well as Smallville's recovery. His position turned out to be a liaison of sorts. . . to all of the company's underworld connections.

Lionel was trying to make Lex into himself, showing him how things were really run in business. Underhanded dealings, and scams and all manner of bad business practices, and Lex was charged with overseeing all of them, or else. 

So he did it. He did all of it, everything Lionel wanted him to do, and told himself that it was all for the people of Smallville. 

But really, he knew all along it was only for Clark. Lex was effectively whoring himself out in order to bring that town back to life, and no one would ever know but him. Typical.

Lex wasn't granted access to the Luthorcorp labs until the third year he'd "worked" at that job, and it was restricted to when he was accompanied by Lionel. After the third visit it became clear as to why.

Dr. Hamilton was working in one of the labs, busily working, with a hoard of assistants and lab techs scurrying all about him in the glass enclosure. They looked like they were brewing something, and Lex was struck with the memory of the first time he'd seen a production of 'Macbeth.' Which witch was Hamilton, he'd wondered aloud, and his father had chuckled.

It turned out those diligent Luthorcorp employees were in fact brewing something down in that lab network. When, two months after that visit with his father, news started coming in of a dangerous new drug, Lex put it all together. 

The drug, dubbed 'Metem,' was his father's newest moneymaking scheme, and its distribution and management fell into Lex's hands. 

He was now a glorified drug dealer and a whore. 

For months, Lex went along with things. He ran everything just as well as Lionel would have, and gained the reputation of being someone you did not mess with. Until, on one of the drops down in Suicide Slums, Lex saw something that still plagued his nightmares.

An emaciated teen with dark hair and light eyes shooting what could only be 'Metem' into his arm. Lex was waiting in the car while the goons went in first, and watched as it took several minutes for the kid to even find a vein. Then, as he pushed in the plunger and the green liquid rushed in, a look of pure bliss came over his face, and he all but passed out right there in the alley, with the needle still in his arm.

It was so easy to change that teen's face into Clark's, to picture his best friend as the one lying there. Beautiful Clark, a slave to Luthorcorp's desire for money. The company was his father; Lionel was Luthorcorp. Lex's father was a mass-murderer, and it could have been Clark. . . it could have been. . .

Lex could have been a part of Clark's death. He could have. . .

It was an epiphany, but nothing immediately changed in his life. 

Four months later, Lionel died of a drug-induced heart attack.

Lex's sterling record of employment at Luthorcorp, three and a half years, no complaints or scandals whatsoever, saved him from being a serious suspect. 

Eventually, Lionel's death was declared an 'accident' and the case closed. Lex took over the company one month later, by an almost unanimous vote. Troy Braeden had always been jealous of him, and so his was the only vote against.

His first act as CEO was the quiet termination of project 'Metamorphosis.' He fired all involved and blacklisted the leader: a Dr. Steven Hamilton.

In the years following, Lex turned the company around. He gradually cut all ties to the underworld, and focused on pharmaceutical research and development. He, himself, patented a few ideas which he sold to the bigger names in that field, and thus recouped any money lost from the termination of all illegal drug and arms dealing.

Lex made Luthorcorp stand for something worthwhile. With every act, he tried to help those he and his father had manipulated and addicted and murdered. 

But he still received bad press, and people still tried to kill him. When Lex was forced to fire Troy Braeden -- it'd been discovered that the man was siphoning off company money and putting it into his own account. . . like a complete moron -- the media backlash was extreme and overwhelming. Lex held a press-conference, where he briefly described what had occurred and what course of action Luthorcorp would take.

The next day, The Daily Planet declared him an honest businessman in a sea of sharks, and Braeden's 24-year-old son shot Lex in the stomach at close range.

The good and the bad, together, that was the way his life had always been.

He'd managed to do something good, attempted to give back some of what he and his family had stolen over the years. . . and yet, at the first sign of trouble, the people's immediate response was to vilify him and shoot him in the gut.

The bullet had hurt less.

***

Halfway to the site of the fire, he realized he didn't have his costume; he'd hidden it away in his apartment before going to Lex's. He wouldn't go back for it. It would only take a minute or two, but that was a minute or two when someone could be dying. If Tomorrow were to get there, only to find that he could have saved even just one more person had he been there sooner. . . Kal didn't think he could live with himself if that happened.

The explosion had been in the warehouse district, and ambulances, police cars and fire trucks clogged the streets for blocks. The fire was still burning strong, and the various emergency workers were everywhere, so Tomorrow flew straight into the heart of the collapsing building. 

His clothes quickly burned away in the sheer heat of the flames, and later Kal would be embarrassed that he'd been stark naked, but at that moment all he could focus on was putting out the fire. Taking a deep breath, Tomorrow then forced it out in a constant wind. Gradually the flames died down and he was able to see the floor and walls. . . and charred, blackened metal, things that had once been great, long tables. He could make out ruined microscopes and lab equipment and the anger in him surged up just as strong and hot as the fire he'd just blown away.

This had been a drug lab, he was sure of it. And from the residue he found, 'Metem' had been made here. He took a deeper sniff. Something else was there, not just the traces of Kryptonite left over from the drug, but something more. . . violent. He didn't know what to call it, but it made him anxious.

Sounds from the entrance to the warehouse broke him from his study of a piece of twisted metal. He was crouched down and holding it in his hand when the firefighters began to come in. The first few stopped dead in their tracks, having spotted him kneeling there, and those who followed behind began shouting at them to move.

Tomorrow closed his fist around the metal and slowly stood up. Dark streaks of soot and ash covered his body in patches, but it was still plain he was naked. One of the firefighters in the line raised a hand and waved, and Tomorrow 'looked' through the man's helmet to 'see' his lips quirked up in amusement. 

He smiled at them and shrugged, saying, "I was in a hurry." They all grinned back at him, the tension breaking, and he sketched a salute before taking off.

***

It took over half an hour of scrubbing in the shower before Kal felt anywhere close to clean again. Afterwards, he retrieved his suit from the decrepit dresser and put it on. Before going out the window, he set the charred piece of metal he'd taken from the fire down on the top of his kitchen table. Something was still 'off' about it, but he didn't have time right now to study it. It was patrol, now.

In the morning, Clark Kent had to go to work, but sometime, Kal would find the time to figure out what was wrong with that bit of metal and why it was bugging him so much. 

As he flew past Lex's penthouse window a few minutes later, he thought, 'Hell, maybe Lex could help.'

It was a comforting thought.


	7. Six

He fell asleep in front of the television, the overly made-up female newscaster going on and on about finances and tax cuts, and dreamed he was back on the island. Only this time, Clark was there with him.

When he woke up, it was to the sounds of Beth rustling around in the kitchen. Lex stretched and popped his neck as he stood up. Trudging through the doorway, he perched on a stool at the counter. All that was visible of his 'housekeeper' was her backside as she bent over, moving things around in one of the cupboards near the floor.

"Look at that list and tell me if there's anything you want," came her muffled voice. 

Leaning his head on one of his hands, he took up the nearby pen and looked over the grocery list on the counter. "It's already Thursday?" he asked quietly.

"Did you pass out in front of the TV again?" Beth's voice was very clear, and Lex looked up to see her standing right in front of him, hands on her hips and mouth twisted in distaste.

He stared right back at her until she looked away. Then, while she checked the upper shelves for supplies, he said, "I didn't 'pass out.' I was tired. The news these days is a great soporific."

Beth snorted. "News? That channel five gal wears more lipstick than my brother. . . and he competes in the 'Divine Ms. Metropolis pageant' every year." Lex chuckled as he scribbled 'milk' down.

"How is Charlie? I haven't seen him in awhile."

"Busy looking for the 'right man.'" She turned around and made air quotes on the last part. "I swear, he calls me practically every day shouting that he's found his soulmate. Then a few hours later, he's cursing all men everywhere and telling me he's gonna go straight."

Lex smiled. "Yeah, sounds like nothing's changed then."

Beth had evidently finished taking stock of the food, for she walked over and snatched the piece of paper up. Lex could tell when she reached the end because she looked over the top of it at him and raised an eyebrow.

Setting it down and laying her hand over it, she fixed him with a curious look. "I've never understood why you keep having me get that stuff. You never drink it. I've seen you pour it down the drain."

Lex studied the cuticles on his right hand as he answered, "Why does it matter why I want it? I do, and that's it."

She snorted again, pushing off from the counter and walking over to take out the eggs and butter from the fridge.

"That's right, you're the Luthor, and none of us plebeians are fit to question your eccentricities." Setting up a skillet on the stove, she slapped some butter in it and held out the egg carton in question. "How many you want?"

"Two's fine," he replied. Getting up, he went over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. Lex leaned against the fridge, sipping and looking at Beth as she worked. She'd put in six eggs, total, and he knew three of those were for him. No matter what he told her, she always made more.

"Eccentricities?" he asked, lips twitching.

"Well, it's the nice way of saying you're batshit insane, but I still love ya." She nodded, breaking up the eggs and scrambling them. "Eccentric, that's what you are, a rich one, too."

They were quiet for a few minutes, up until the eggs were done, and then as Beth divided the food evenly between two plates, Lex got out the orange juice for her and resumed his seat at the counter.

"Look, I get the milk because sometimes I want it," he said quietly, eyes focused on his plate. "And sometimes, I don't, and it stays in there till it goes bad."

"Lex," she said on a great sigh, sitting down next to him, "it's your business and I apologize for saying that," and she waved her hand as if encompassing the entire conversation, "all of that stuff. I'm your maid and I cook. You shouldn't have to put up with me opening my big yap and passing judgment on you all the time."

"Well, the first is true." She gave him a confused look. "You're my 'penthouse keeper,'" he said with a smirk, and she rolled her eyes. "And you cook me food sometimes, yes, but I haven't had any problems with you 'passing judgment.' It's refreshing to have someone who actually talks. Most of the time, I fear I'd get better conversation from the lions at the zoo than I do from the supposed geniuses I have working for me."

"I don't know about the lions. Seem like a lazy bunch of hedonists, to me. But those monkeys will sure as hell chat you up. And you can't go wrong with the gorillas." She looked over at him and nodded seriously. "Those ol' boys know what's what." 

"Next time I go, I'll make sure to spend some time in their presence, then," Lex said, smiling. They ate in silence then -- Beth's eggs delicious as always. When he'd finished, Lex took up the morning paper and began to slog through it. He felt a nudge at his elbow after a few minutes and looked over. Beth had polished off her plate and was grinning at him. Then she deftly reached for his, taking it and her own to the sink. He finished his coffee, abandoned the paper, and got up to place the cup next to Beth's soapy arm, near the sink. Just before he walked away, her voice called him back.

"Lex!" she called, and waited for him to turn around. She was looking at the cup in her hands, his cup, and as she reached down for the sponge, she asked, "How'd it go last night? With Kent? Did he like the spinach?"

Lex nodded to himself and smirked. "Yeah," he said. "He ate three-fourths of it. Said to give his compliments to the chef."

She nodded. "He can tell me to my face next time he's here. I'm sure you'll want me to make him a nice spread, won't you?"

All said without her ever looking at him, and, God, he was completely under her thumb.

"Yeah. Next time."

***

The roof of The Gotham Globe wasn't that much different from the Planet's. True, it didn't have the huge spinning emblem of the paper, but it was high up and dirty and completely empty. While he waited, he stood on the ledge, looking at the streets below -- the people hurrying to and fro, and the crazily swerving traffic, complete with honking and shouting.

'Meet me on the roof after work.

CK'

That's the note he'd left on Chloe's desk. Brief and straight to the point, and no matter how much she complained or berated him once she was up here, he knew that the mystery and secrecy of that message would please her. Chloe had always loved spy movies.

Growing bored with people-watching, he focused his hearing in until he could pick up the inside of the 32nd floor. Then he scanned for Chloe's heartbeat, and finally found her in the hallway saying goodnight to Jeremy and Doris. As the three of them reached the bank of elevators, Chloe made some excuse, saying she had forgotten something. She told the two of them to go ahead, and her heart sped up as the elevator doors shut on her coworkers. Then she waited, watching the numbers until it hit the ground floor. At which point, she got into another one and pushed the button for the 56th floor, the very top.

He counted: 49th, 50th, 51st. . . 

She was wearing heels. They clicked on the floor of the hallway as she got off the elevator, and before opening the door to the roof, she took a deep breath.

He stepped down from the ledge slowly, turning around to face her. She was wearing a flippy dark blue skirt that made her legs look so pale and delicate, and her hair was pulled back in a tight knot at the nape of her neck -- darker now than it'd been before, closer to that dishwater blonde she'd been the first time they'd ever met.

She stood there for a long moment, her hand still resting on the heavy metal door and only one foot outside the building. Then with another one of those deep breaths, she stepped forward, letting the door slam behind her.

He met her halfway, knowing she wouldn't be comfortable that close to the edge. He wore the suit, just as he always did. He'd learned his lesson last night and never again would he go anywhere without being prepared to help. 

"Well," she breathed. First she looked at his costume, those quick reporter's eyes committing every detail of it to memory. And when she finally brought her head up to look him in the eyes, he saw fear there. "Clark?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Chloe," he said. He tried to act more like Clark for her, but he was wearing the suit and it felt wrong. He was Tomorrow when he wore the suit in public, and Clark any other time he was around people. And when he was alone, he was Kal, so who did that make him now? This was Chloe, and like last night with Lex, he found he couldn't quite fit all of himself into Tomorrow or Clark. 

"God! You're so. . . My God, Clark! Where-- where the hell have you been?!"

And she was back. He felt a tiny smile play on his lips, and let it loose. 

"You've read about me, then? Where I. . . come from?"

She glared at him hard and her face twisted into a pout. "Oh, yes, I read about you. From The Daily Planet and Lois! You didn't think to, oh, I don't know, come see me? I could have written that, too, Clark!" Chloe mumbled to herself, "and a hell of a lot better," then whipped her head up and gave him a suspicious look before deflating. "It would have been nice to see you. . . even without the interview." A watery smile, and she was trying so hard that he returned it.

"I'm in Metropolis. That's where it had to come from. It couldn't have been you, Chloe. Besides," he smirked, "you have the Batman to write about."

Her eyes went wide again and she stepped closer. "Do you know him? Have you met him? Who is-- "

He waved a hand, dismissing that line of questioning. "No, I can't get you him, either. I'm only here for you. I know-- I know I should have come sooner, but. . . " he trailed off weakly. So, Clark makes an appearance, after all. 

"Yeah," she agreed readily, her anger making her cheeks pink. "Man, you should have. But. . . forget about that stuff." She gestured behind her, where far away Metropolis was. "I read the article, and Pete and I still talk, so he told me a bunch of it." Chloe fixed him with her eyes and asked, "Where were you, though? You've been gone so long, I-- I just about gave up hope." Her eyes became wet, making the lightness of her tone a lie.

"I was forced to become what my parents demanded of me. Training, and learning of old Krypton. But it wasn't the same in there." He frowned, trying to put into words what had happened. "Time was different, and when I was free to go, you were all. . . long gone."

"I went to Met U, just like the three of us planned," she said, stepping closer. Her eyes were still shiny with unshed tears -- brave Chloe wouldn't let herself cry -- and so earnest, that painfully false chipper smile on her face. She was trying to cheer him up, show him that she'd never forgotten him and he felt more for her at that moment, more love, than he'd felt for anything in a long time.

"Pete and I both went there, and I majored in, surprise, surprise, journalism. Pete went pre-law and I teased him mercilessly for not being a far-rolling apple. God, you should have seen his mom at graduation. She was so proud, I swear, she grinned the entire day. And she kept bringing her hands up to his face and saying how good a son he was, and how much she loved him. Like, the whole time they were in public, too." She was talking to her shoes, eyes anywhere but on him. "'Course, Dad rivaled her for most embarrassing parental approval moment. When I went to get my diploma. . . you know, everyone claps for everyone, right? All nice, nice, and respectful. But my dad-- " she broke off here and snorted, chuckling as she shook her head back and forth. She must have relaxed as she talked, as well, because her eyes met his as she continued.

"And then later, uber-cool guy that he is, he went up to the Dean after the ceremony and cornered the poor man." She was gesturing animatedly with her hands, smiling and. . . happy in her memories. "I'd look over, and Dad would be pointing at me excitedly, with his arm draped across the Dean's shoulders. Eventually," she laughed. "Eventually, the Dean's wife had to come over and literally pry my dad's arm off her husband. Then their son played interference and started talking to Dad, distracting him so they could get away." She laughed hard then, looking up at him with that twinkle in her eye.

And for Chloe, he managed a smile. But he couldn't laugh. It was funny and happy, and he hadn't been a part of it, hadn't been part of any graduation. Chloe had done things, Pete had done things. . . they'd lived without him for more than seven years.

As if hearing his thoughts, Chloe reached out and put her hand on his arm. And squeezed.

"I wish you could have been there. I've missed you so much, Clark." The sad look was back. "I want you to know, not a day goes by that I don't think of you. Yesterday," she gave another squeeze of his arm, "I branched out, food-wise. There's this new Thai place four blocks over, and after I got done eating there, I thought, 'That was some majorly, spicy-ass food! Who would ever want to eat there with me?' And then I remembered that time. . .back in eighth grade? When Pete and I dared you to drink that bottle of tabasco sauce, because you said it wasn't hot." She gave another shake of her head at that. "You liked spicy food. You always put a whole packet of those red pepper flakes on each slice of pizza." Chloe reached up, then, putting her hand to his cheek. "I missed you every day you were gone." 

She looked closely into his eyes for a moment, as though searching for some sign, before leaning back and nodding. "And I forgive you, too," she told him, giving his cheek a pat. "So you don't even need to ask."

That smug smile of hers was worth everything. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close. 

"I missed you, too, Chloe," Kal whispered into her hair.


	8. Seven

Work the next day was rough. A deal with a Singapore company fell through at the last minute, and Lex was forced to lay off three people. But if they couldn't do the job, then he couldn't keep them on.

He gave them all good references and told himself it was because each of them proved they worked hard and just simply weren't cut out for this business, not because he felt bad or guilty for firing them.

It was Thursday, and at five o'clock, come hell or highwater, Lex was leaving the office. He had an early conference call to Berlin the next morning and damned if he were going to do it half-asleep. Luckily, by 4:30 the place had wound down and he cut out early even by most people's standards. 

His father had always taken the limo wherever he could, but Lex loved driving. In a Porsche with the windows down and the stereo up, shifting and sliding through Metropolis traffic, Lex felt right. Those were the times when he didn't think, when his mind was solely focused on when to change gears, and what the hell that jackass in the Honda Civic was doing in front of him. 

Since he'd quit working earlier than usual, he also hit the commuter rush on the freeway. He was stuck on the 45, surrounded on all sides by cars and with no end to the jam in sight. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in agitation, Lex startled when his phone went off. He fumbled around for a little bit, patting himself down in his search for the damn thing.

"Lex Luthor."

"Okay, I need some advice," Clark's voice said. Clark, or Kal? God this was so confusing, and why was he calling Lex for advice?

"And to what do I owe this pleasant break? Family drama? You have talked to Chloe by now, haven't you?"

Clark sighed over the phone. "Yeah, yeah," he said, in a rush. "That's pretty much taken care of." A pause and then, "Well, sort of. But that's not why I'm calling you. Where are you, by the way? I'm not interrupting something, am I?

Lex chuckled and pushed his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "No, not at all. In fact, I am currently idling in traffic next to a minivan with two adorable children. They're making faces at me even as we speak. So, ask away. What's up?"

Another sigh. "So, I talked to Chloe, and I. . . saw Pete. I mean, I stopped by his house and we talked a little, so. . . but now I've got a-- not exactly a problem, but-- "

"Spit it out, Clark. What can I do?"

"I went to the coffee shop across the street from the Planet," he said in a rush. "You know, not the Starbucks, but the independent one. . . 'Bean Broker.'"

"Yeah, I know which one you're talking about. And?" The traffic around him began inching slowly forward, but still at a snail's pace.

Lex could hear the air being sucked into Clark's mouth through the phone. A deep breath and then, "And Whitney Fordman was there, and he definitely knew."

Lex's mouth had literally fallen open at that, and he shut it with a click.

"Knew, as in 'I know you from back home in Smallville,' or. . . 'You're the guy in the tight black costume flying around these days and I remember tying you to a cross back home in Smallville?'"

"The second one, and Jesus! You're still upset about that? It was no big deal, really. We both know I came out of it just fine-- "

Lex cut him off. "That's not the point, and you know it. They crucified you, Clark! They tied you up and left you on a cross in your underwear, in the middle of October -- at night. It was freezing, and don't forget that little bauble Fordman left you with, either. You didn't look 'just fine' when I got there."

"He didn't know that I'd get sick from the necklace. I didn't even know I'd get sick from it, then, and it was just-- "

"No," Lex agreed, "none of them knew that Lana Lang's morbid necklace would hurt you, true, but they put you up there and they left you. Anyone else, and they could have died just from the exposure, the position they were tied in. You, Clark, could have died." There was a notable silence from the other end. He took a few deep breaths and then said, quietly, "It was a big deal, and what the hell does Fordman want?"

Clark chuckled. "God, you switch gears like crazy. I don't know what he wants. He seemed-- " He paused, and then said, "He didn't act like he was looking for trouble, or that he'd expose me." 

Lex smirked at that turn of phrase. 

"So why do you need my input?" he asked. "Let's start with what happened. You went inside and, what? He was in line or-- ?"

***

Lois was being a real pain in the ass today. He'd turned in his article on the bus driver's strike this morning, and she was pissed off at him for some reason. Probably just jealous. . . again. She always got more stories in than anyone else, but no matter what, she still acted like everything should be hers. Like she should get first dibs on everything, and the rest of them could make do with her rejects.

So, he'd taken a break from the death-glare she was giving him across the way, and stepped out for a nice coffee. It was a hot day, so he thought maybe something iced would be a good idea. As he walked inside, though -- the contrasting smells of the sweet milk and cream and the bitterness of the coffee beans swelling up in the air -- and waited in line, he gradually got the feeling that he was being watched. Slowly, casually, Kal turned around to scan over the rest of the coffeehouse. He made it look as though he were just killing time while he waited, but really he was discreetly checking out the person who thought dorky Clark Kent was so interesting they had to stare at him.

There, in the back corner, blonde hair and. . .

Shit. Fucking goddamn hell, it was Whitney.

Kal turned back around to the front just in time to place his order, forgetting until it was too late that he was going for an iced latte, ordering his usual tall black coffee instead. 

As he shuffled over to the register to pay, and received his drink after doing so, Kal made up his mind to just leave the shop and drink his coffee outside. The park would be nice, and since he'd done all his work for today, he could get away with taking a longer break.

Unfortunately, Whitney had a different idea. Just as Kal put his hand up to the door handle, a call of 'Clark!' came from the nearby corner. He sighed and put on his Clark persona before turning around.

"Clark Kent," Whitney said, standing up and gesturing towards the seat across from himself. Clark trudged over to the table, bumbling and slouching, pushing his glasses up before sticking a hand out for Whitney to shake.

"Uh, hi, Whitney," he breathed out, as they shook hands. "Boy, I haven't seen you for a long time!" He dropped down into the chair and set his coffee in front of him.

"Yeah," Whitney nodded, smiling. He was studying Clark closely, so Kal played up the dorkiness factor by pushing his glasses up again, and then scooting his chair closer to the table, scraping it loudly across the floor so there was a great screech.

Then he grinned nervously, quirking his lips so that they were crooked and pushed his glasses up. . . again.

'So, uh, what are you, uh, doing in the city?" Clark asked, raising his eyebrows and looking excited.

Whitney chuckled, his eyes growing narrower as he continued to look at Clark. "I teach over at North Metro High. History, Social Studies, that kind of stuff. But school's officially out now, and I've got no summer classes this year, so it's just. . . lounging-around-time for awhile." He leaned forward, moving to rest his arms on the table and not looking away from Clark's face. "What about you? How are things at the paper?" For all that he was smiling, Whitney was serious and intense.

This was so not what he needed right now.

"Oh! You know that I work at the Planet?" Clark laughed nervously, stalling by taking a sip of his coffee. After setting it down, he played with the lid, allowing him to avoid Whitney's assessing eyes. 

"You've had a few articles on the front page the last couple of months. And a whole host of them inside. It'd be hard not to notice."

"Oh, well, uh," Clark stuttered, adjusting his glasses. "Thank you. I mean, that you noticed-- "

"You can drop the act, you know," Whitney said, in a low voice. Clark looked up and the look on the other man's face was completely devoid of any humor. He actually looked somewhat angry.

"I don't-- what do you mean? What-- what act?"

"Jesus," Whitney gritted out. He reached down and took a drink of his own coffee, then looked around before returning to stare at Clark. After he'd finished the last of it, Whitney set his empty cup down and said, "I must've been an idiot. All those strange things that happened, and you were always there just in time. Jesus, how many times did you save me? I know Lana would be dead, like, fifty times over without you, and Luthor. . ."

Kal flinched at the cold way Whitney said 'Luthor.' He couldn't help it, couldn't prevent it because it was so unexpected. Ever since he'd gotten control of the company, Lex had done great things. Good things. No one but Lionel's old allies and enemies said the name Luthor with that level of contempt, anymore. The city loved Lex Luthor.

But Whitney didn't.

"What's wrong?" Whitney asked, after he apparently caught the flinch. 

"What do you know. . . Whitney?" Kal asked. He dropped the Clark act and took a sip of his coffee.

"Like I said, I read the paper. I watch the news. I've seen Tomorrow in action." Whitney got a little smile on his face at that, and tilted his head slightly. "He stopped by the school the other night. I waved at him and he did what in return?"

"I don't know," Kal replied, not looking at him. He watched the people outside as they walked past. "This is a stupid and ridiculous conversation." He tilted his watch and made a show of checking the time. "And unlike you, I do have a job the whole year 'round. One to which I should be returning, now." 

He made to get up, glancing at Whitney to gauge the other man's expression. The jerk was just smiling, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

"There's the kid I knew. Oh, come on," he said, at Kal's scowl. He was still smirking, but he leaned close again and kept his voice low. "I get it, okay? Who 'm I gonna tell, huh? Nobody'd believe me anyway, and besides, that's not why we're talking."

Kal just looked at him, causing Whitney to sigh.

"I-- Now that I realize what. . . " He shook his head in apparent frustration, and then tried again. "Now that I know what's going on, I feel the need to thank you. And to apologize."

Kal opened his mouth, but Whitney waved a hand at him to be silent.

"You know what for, Clark." Whitney shrugged. "I can't even tell you why I did that to you. Being jealous was one thing, but that? Where did that even come from? I didn't know I had it in me to hate so much, but I do." He looked into Kal's eyes and said, "I am so very sorry for what I did to you back at Homecoming. And thank you for doing what you did -- for all of us. They won't ever put it together, I don't think, so on behalf of that stupid town I say thank you."

Kal breathed in and out for a moment, before meeting Whitney's eyes again. Slowly he stood up, holding the eye contact, stopping when he reached the door.

"Whitney," he said, and it wasn't Clark Kent's voice. It was his own, Kal's. Then he nodded at Whitney just as Tomorrow had done the other day, watching as the man's face lit up. "No thanks is needed."

And then Kal left the shop.

***

"So, he knows."

"Yes, he does," Lex readily agreed. He made the left turn into the parking garage, giving a brief smile to the guard at the entrance. Pulling into his spot, Lex then killed the engine and calmly waited for Clark to say something else.

A few moments later, Lex finally bit the bullet and said, "Well, there's not much you can do here, Clark. He knows and you said you thought him sincere, so. . . I'm not quite sure I understand the problem, besides the fact that this is Whitney Fordman we're talking about," he muttered as he got out of the car, locking it and then walking over to the private elevator in the corner.

"So many people know." And was that whining Lex detected?

"You said yourself that you gave up the game when it was obvious he knew," Lex said, as he pushed the button for his floor and the elevator doors closed. He leaned back, rubbing his eyes. "He wasn't fishing for information. He actually knew. And, so what if he knows? You were always a good judge of character. If you believe that he's telling the truth, that he only wanted to apologize and thank you, then-- then, you're probably right."

"What's the thing you regret the most, Lex?" Clark suddenly asked, in a quiet voice.

"And you say I switch gears abruptly. Where the hell did that come from?"

"Just-- just tell me, and then I'll tell you."

"You'll show me yours, if I show you mine?" Lex choked out.

"Only less sexual."

"Fine," he said, and sighed. "I regret not having the balls to kiss you all those years ago."

There was silence again, and for a second he was afraid that Clark had hung up.

"I regret not coming to find you on the island."

"Jesus," Lex breathed. The elevator pinged, and the doors chose that moment to open. Lex was frozen in shock. "Clark, there wasn't anything you could've d-- "

"Would you like to go out tomorrow night, Lex?"

"Uh-- "

"Yes. Yes, I mean it. There's this place over on Bridard street. Great Thai food."

Lex gathered his wits enough to exit the elevator and as he loosened his tie, asked, "What time?"


	9. Eight

Technically, he supposed the last time he'd been on a date was only four months ago. A charity event at the Hilton with Nora Armstrong hanging off his arm. But he'd hadn't even driven her home, simply had the limo come and get her. Lex had left in his Diablo and felt nothing but hopelessness over the fact that he wasn't even minutely attracted to such a gorgeous woman -- not enough to kiss her goodnight or hold her hand at all.

 

So, what happened tonight was immensely important to him. It was a date with someone he'd loved from afar for years. It was Clark. Or Kal, or whatever he called himself now, but the person was the same -- a bit more worn around the edges, more cynical and jaded and traumatized, but that same brilliant creature Lex had fallen for all those years ago.

 

The pants he'd decided on right away. It was the damn shirt that was giving him trouble. He'd figured it was casual, but Lex didn't like to wear jeans out in public, so a pair of soft, grey slacks and the closest thing to sneakers he had took care of the lower half of his attire. But a shirt was far trickier. It said so much about a person, so much about what course the evening might take as well. Sighing, Lex finally took a light blue button down off a hanger and put it on. 

 

He'd gotten an e-mail earlier, saying Kal date would stop by the penthouse at around seven. It seemed to be their magic hour, seven o'clock. That's when they'd met last time for dinner. And while it hadn't started out that well, by the end of the evening he and Kal had come a bit closer to reconciliation. 

 

And so he waited. He'd put off getting ready until 6:30. It took about ten minutes. Now that left him another 20 yet to wait around. And pace and worry.

 

The buzzer startled him, and looking at his watch he saw the minute hand just tick over to 0, the hour switching to seven immediately. It made him smile, for the punctuality struck Lex as something Kal was doing deliberately, almost teasing.

 

He opened the door and there he was. Clark Kent in all his nerdy glory.

 

"You couldn't just wear a mask or something, rather than force me to endure this get-up?" Lex complained, stepping out into the little entryway and turning to make sure the door had locked automatically. It was a habit he'd been trying to break for as long as he'd lived in this Tower. Newly-designed locks and laser-pointer type keys were the newest in high-tech security, but Lex missed the old metal keys of yesteryear.

 

"Oh, gee-whiz, Lex!" Kal retorted with mock apology. "If I'd known beforehand what your reaction would be, I assure you I never would've dreamed of torturing you so!" He rolled his eyes, and as they reached the elevator, pushed the down button.

 

"Are you done?" 

 

"Yes. Yes, I am done, thank you."

 

The doors pinged open and they both stepped inside, standing close enough that Lex could feel the heat coming off Kal's body.

 

"I simply meant that it would be nice to see you looking good -- dressed well."

 

Kal raised an eyebrow, still looking forward. "What do you picture me wearing exactly, Lex?"

 

He would not blush, for Chrissake! He would not. But Lex felt his face go warm and suddenly this conversation had veered off into dirty talk, and he didn't know quite how to get it back on track.

 

"Oh, the usual, I suppose," he replied, in a deep, calm voice made expressly for this kind of thing. "Tight pants and a smooth shirt, something soft and. . . clingy." He watched as Kal visibly swallowed and mentally patted himself on the back for keeping his cool. How's it feel, Clark? he thought.

 

"Short-sleeved or long?"

 

"Hmmm, both have their appeal, but I'd have to say long-sleeved -- something of a pullover, I think. One that hugs to your chest and moves with you." He turned his head and looked Clark up and down. "In green." Then looked forward again as the doors opened. He got out of the elevator first, waving his arms wide and gesturing towards his cars. 

 

"Your choice," he said.

 

Kal stood still for a moment before drifting over to the silver Porsche convertible. He turned to meet Lex's eyes and smiled. 

 

"It's a nice night out. How 'bout this one?"

 

"Sounds great," Lex replied, getting the keys from the nearby locked case and walking over. He twirled them around his finger, tilting his head and looking at Kal speculatively. "Wanna drive?" he asked, holding the keys up.

 

The look on Kal's face was like every happy kid's on Christmas morning.

 

"You're serious? You'd let me drive one of your babies?"

 

Lex shrugged and played it cool.

 

"I know you'll take care of her. Hell," he laughed, "you'll probably do a better job than I do. And we both know it."

 

Kal just grinned and jogged around the front of the Porsche to take the keys from Lex's hand. Their fingers collided and slid against each other, and Lex felt a little. . . off-center. Almost like he was drunk or high, but better. Kal's grin was cheerful and fun and purely happy, and Lex felt something in him loosen and expand upon being able to see it again.

 

It was the same look Clark had often gotten back in Smallville when Lex showed up, or they played pool, or watched movies, or played video games. . . or any of the tiny, millions of moments that had encompassed their friendship back then. 

 

Watching Kal back the car up slowly, then whip it forward to accelerate quickly -- all the while, grinning that same beautiful, heart-stopping grin -- Lex felt. . .

 

. . . like he'd come home after seven long years away.

 

***

 

The car handled like a dream, slipping and shifting through the traffic downtown easily. He revved the engine at a red light just to see Lex laugh out loud and the couple in the car next to them look over in stark astonishment.

 

He found a good parking spot right up close to the restaurant, and saw it as just another sign that tonight would go well. That their date would go well.

 

He and Lex were on a date tonight. They were together. . . and they were dating.

 

"What are you looking so smug about, over there?" Lex asked as they walked to the doors. Lex reached out and opened the left door, pulling it back just as Clark did the same to the door on the right. They shared a glance and then both burst out laughing.

 

Like gentlemen, they'd automatically held the door open for their date. . . leaving both of them holding a door and no one walking through.

 

They both continued chuckling, as Kal swung around his door and went inside, watching Lex do the same.

 

"Two?" the pretty waitress asked with a smile.

 

"Yes," Lex responded. He smiled back at her, nicely, and Kal knew he was turning on the charm. As they walked to the table, he wondered if Lex were flattering her and buttering her up for a reason, or if it were just automatic these days.

 

"Here are your menus. Would you like to start off with something to drink?"

 

"A bottle of Rieslings, please," Lex said immediately. He smiled and winked at the waitress -- Kayla, by her name tag -- then added, "Two glasses."

 

Kayla, for her part, blushed and stammered out a 'Right away,' before quickly retreating over to the bar area of the restaurant.

 

Kal raised his eyebrows and waited for Lex to look at him.

 

"What?" he finally asked.

 

"You sure jumped in there real quick," Kal replied with a smirk.

 

"Well, it's important to get the right wine, especially with Thai food. All those spices, and herbs. . . you're laughing at me. What's so funny?"

 

"You!" Kal gasped out, in between laughing hard. Lex's face went all confused and pouty, which made Kal laugh even harder. He hid his mouth behind his hand, trying to stifle the noise he was making in the close restaurant. People from nearby tables were starting to look over and, upon seeing and recognizing Lex, they kept looking.

 

"Really, Clark," Lex said haughtily. "Control yourself. We are in public after all, and I have an image to maintain."

 

"Oh-ho! An image, he says!" Kal chortled. Wiping his eyes, he said, leaning over the table, "Tonight's supposed to be fun, Lex. I appreciate you picking the wine. God knows, I have no clue what's right to drink. I was just gonna get a beer, or something. But you're acting all uptight and formal all of a sudden." He lowered his voice and asked seriously, "Are you not up for this? We don't have to do this if you don't want t-- "

 

"No, it's not that!" Lex burst out, interrupting Kal mid-sentence. Then he comically glanced around at all the people looking at the two of them, smiling politely to the room at large before he too leaned in closer across the table.

 

"It's not that at all, Kal. Don't for one second think that I don't want to be right where I am, with the exact person sitting across from me. . . on a date. I just. . . I want everything to go right tonight, that's all." He finished talking and leaned back, bringing his leg up to rest it on his other thigh. Lex's left hand came up to the table and started spinning the fork around as he gazed at Kal.

 

"Here you go," their waitress suddenly proclaimed, setting down the bottle of wine and glasses. "Have you had enough time to decide, or do you need some more?"

 

"No, we've decided," Kal said, his eyes not moving from Lex's. "We'll have the Gaeng Ped Bped Yaang Red curry with roast duck, followed by the Dtom Yaam Goong, and the Yaam Khai Yiew Mah." Kal was showing off, saying everything without looking at the menu and with perfect pronunciation and accent. Kayla hastily wrote it all down. Then, looking at each of them nervously, she nodded, gave a final hesitant smile, and left.

 

"Impressive," Lex said, that smirk on his face. "I do believe you missed the second vowel in 'Gaeng,' though."

 

"I did, hmmm?" Kal too leaned away from the table.

 

"Mmm-hmmm," he replied with a lazy smile.

 

"Well, if that's the only thing that goes wrong tonight, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful. . . friendship."

 

Lex chuckled and stopped the spinning fork with his fingertips. "And you a reporter. Words are your bread and butter. How can you so blithely use someone else's, and so out of context, to boot?"

 

Kal shrugged and just kept on smiling.

 

"Who ever said I was a good reporter? And let me tell you, there's a big difference between reporting something in the paper. . . and being a writer."

 

Lex's smile dimmed, but just a little. He still looked content, and he finally seemed to have relaxed. Well, for Lex he was relaxed. He studied Kal for a bit, then said, "I don't think you have to worry about anything like that, Clark. 

 

"You're a writer, through and through."

 

Then he smiled, but it was a different one than all the others he'd given tonight. This one was a little more. . . fragile? More open and vulnerable. And the most beautiful thing Kal had seen.

 

Kal reached out and poured them each a glass of wine, holding Lex's out to him. Then he raised his glass and said, "Nosce te ipsum!"

 

Again, that smile, and Lex clinked his wine against Kal's. "Nunc est bibendum -- 'now we must drink.'" Kal smiled, too, and together they swallowed their wine. . . maintaining eye contact the entire time.

 

Nosce te ipsum -- Know thyself.

 

And Kal was just beginning to understand what that might mean for him. And for any relationship he might have with Lex in the future.


	10. Nine

Lex was watching the news heavily again, but this time it wasn't because of Kal. . . or Kal's alter ego, either. It seemed Metropolis had a serial killer on the loose.

One who left behind charred skeletons, almost mummified. Lex had that itchy feeling, the one he'd used to get all the time back in Smallville. There was something underneath, something else going on besides the obvious in this case.

The next few days following their date, Lex didn't see Kal, or Kal-as-Clark, at all. He always turned the television to the news when he got home from work, though, and there were usually plenty of spots about Tomorrow's exploits around the world.

But he must have left half a dozen messages on the man's phones, both his cell and the landline at his apartment, and there was no answer to either. No return. It wasn't like Clark, and no matter the changes, he didn't think it possible that anyone who had lived underneath Martha Kent's roof for as long as Clark had would be able to be so rude as to not return a phone call. Never mind the fact that it'd been a good seven years since Kal had lived there. Those things stuck with you, and he was relatively sure that whatever was causing this silence to his calls, it wasn't intentional.

Which meant there was only one other option: Kal wasn't there, or hadn't been there, for three-going-on-four days. He hadn't checked his voicemail or been home to see the answering machine. Hadn't had time. . . or hadn't been able to.

It was nine o'clock at night on a Wednesday, and Lex was alone in the penthouse, sitting in front of the TV with a decanter of scotch. He had Beethoven on the stereo and the sound of channel four's news broadcast turned down to a low murmur, when suddenly something caught his attention.

A glimpse of a fast-moving black blur, streaking across the screen made him pause the symphony, and rapidly dial up the volume on the TV.

" --say that the fight has been in progress for well over 45 minutes. Citizens are advised to avoid the area altogether. Police and SWAT teams have set up a three-mile perimeter around the two, and detours have been posted throughout the area. To recap, Metropolis superhero Tomorrow has been seen engaging in a heated battle against, what witnesses have described as, a giant, purple monster with large fangs.

All citizens are advised to stay away from the intersection of Banks and Neuarth, as well as the the connecting streets Dobbs and Wright. Stay tuned to News 4 for continuing coverage on this breaking story-- "

Lex muted the television again, leaning back into the sofa and raising his glass to his lips.

Even from as far away as the camera had been, the fight looked to be going against Tomorrow. Whatever it was that he was battling, it was just as strong as him and didn't look to be tiring as quickly.

Tomorrow had looked exhausted. 

Lex changed the channel, going up the dial to CNN. Evidently Tomorrow was big news, for the news network had a crawl and its main segment dedicated to the fight going on in downtown Metropolis. They also had a blown-up, grainy photo of the "giant, purple monster with fangs" in the corner of the screen. It looked hideous, the fangs lining the entire circumference of its open, snarling mouth. It had pure white where its eyes should have been, and the entirety of its body appeared to be wrinkled and ridged, muscles somewhat like a human's. . . but wrong somehow, too. 

Well, this perhaps explained the ignored messages. If Kal had been. . . hunting this thing, or tracking it the last few days, he certainly wouldn't have had time to stop and check his messages.

Lex wondered if he'd managed to call in to work, or what lame excuse Clark Kent would have to come up with when this was all over.

It wasn't until later that he realized he'd never once questioned Kal's ability to get out of any tough situation unscathed. 

***

\--coming from the right? No, God, the left! Here it came-- 

\--damn those reporters! If that helicopter got any lower, he'd have to go over there and-- 

\--Jesus, that was close! Fucking pay attention, Kent! What was it doing with its mouth-- 

\--just keep moving. Come on, move! Get up, Kal. Get up or you're going to die here-- 

\--if he could just. . . catch his breath. . . he'd get it cornered, and-- 

***

He was up in space. Nothing living on Earth could withstand these temperatures. Nothing but him. 

It'd been so close there for awhile. Every time Tomorrow tried to trap the thing's arms, it slithered and slipped out of his grasp. Every breath he'd taken at the end had been a searing pain.

It sucked the energy from his body, like it'd stolen all the energy from the people it had killed. His first thought after figuring out what it did was, "Like Sean Kelvin back in Smallville. Like Eric Summers." But who knew if this thing had been created, or if, by some horrible chance of fate, it had its roots in. . . Kryptonite experiments.

That's what Metem was, the drug that had so many addicted to it. It was manipulated Kryptonite -- cut and laced with other drugs, so that some of its instability was tempered.

He'd first recognized the pattern of killings five days ago, but it wasn't until Sunday that he'd managed to figure out what was really going on.

It had been a man once. A janitor named Rudy Jones had gone missing two weeks ago, and tonight Tomorrow had gone to his family, that man's wife and two young daughters, and he'd told them that their husband, their father, their provider and support had died. He didn't say what exactly had happened, just that Rudy had been caught up in the events downtown. 

He said the monster had taken him hostage, and, in the end, killed him like it had so many other people. In a way, it was true, but that didn't make it any less painful for Tomorrow to say. A good man was dead, and not even Tomorrow had been able to save him. Nor any of those people the thing had taken, had used up like batteries and discarded as worthless. Their loved ones had no answers, save the ones he could. . . 

. . .the answers he could still give them. As Clark, as a reporter, the truth could come out. He could write it himself -- well, with the knowledge and personal experience he had, certainly -- just not from his own point of view. And the city would know. The country would know what had happened.

Kal would find out for them. He would find who was responsible for this, and justice would be done.

***

When he got back to his apartment, he varied his routine a bit. Instead of checking his answering machine for messages or picking up the paper -- only, in this case, there were three newspapers lying in front of his door -- Kal went straight into the bathroom. He stood under the shower for a long time before he realized he still had his suit on. And then it took him awhile to get it off. His fingers kept sliding and skipping over the hidden clasps several times before successfully managing to unhook them.

He was so tired. He didn't think he'd ever felt this exhausted, this. . . drained. It'd come on suddenly, and now all he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep.

But like often happened, he was unable to. Hours he lay awake, thinking and re-thinking every action he'd taken the last few days, every move he'd made against that thing. That. . . parasite.

Finally unable to stand it any longer, Kal wearily pushed the covers back and slouched out into his living room. His intention was to turn on the TV, maybe eventually drift off to infomercials for grilling machines and rotisseries. But with all the lights off, the quick, steady blinking of the answering machine's message light drew his attention. He stumbled over, bracing himself against the wall as he hit the 'Play' button.

Six messages. One from Chloe, and five from Lex. After the last one had ended, Kal automatically 'looked' outside towards Luthor Towers. He stopped on Lex's window, not daring to 'see' any farther, not wanting to invade his privacy like that, but still craving. . . something.

Before he knew it, he had the phone in his hand and it was ringing. He'd dialed Lex's number.

"Yeah?"

God, it felt good just to hear his voice, even if he sounded somewhat put out. Kal looked over at the clock on the stove and winced. 2:30 in the morning wasn't the best time to call.

"Uh, it's me," he said. "Sorry about the time. I didn't realize it was so la-- "

"Jesus, Clark! Are you okay?" Lex said, in a rush. He sounded worried, and something in Kal loosened and settled.

"Yeah, just tired."

There was a pause. Then, "Tired, like, physically tired? Or, as in 'tired of all this shit,' tired?"

"Both," Kal replied. He drifted back over to sit on the sofa, but didn't turn on the TV like he'd intended. "Mostly physically, though."

"How did that happen?" Lex asked.

He took a deep breath and started at the beginning: how he'd stumbled upon one of the bodies, and had from then on been on the lookout for others; how, upon finding the last one, Kal had made the decision to actively seek the murderer out, as Tomorrow. He told Lex how it'd taken two days to pick up the trail and another to follow it to its end.

Kal told him about how close that fight had been, how the thing he'd been struggling against kept grabbing him, and every time it stole energy from Tomorrow, it felt like pieces of himself were leaving too.

It still felt like that, like he'd lost so much today. 

"Do you want me to come over?" Lex asked, after Kal had stopped talking.

"We both have work tomorrow. You should be in bed, Lex."

There was a sigh from Lex's end, and Kal closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

"Do you want me to come over, Kal?" he asked again.

"Can we meet tomorrow?" Kal asked, instead. "For lunch, or later. Sometime. Whenever it works best for you."

"Yes," Lex said. His voice was deep and slow, soothing and calming Kal like nothing else. "You call me in the morning when you're ready to, and we'll meet up. Okay?"

"Thanks, Lex," Kal said, on a sigh. "I will."

Another long pause. Then, like a balm to Kal's soul, Lex said, "No, thank you. You do so much, too much, I think. You did good tonight, Kal. You saved people."

"Lex," Kal whispered.

"Goodnight, Kal. Sweet dreams." And he hung up.

Kal set the phone down and did turn on the TV, but he fell asleep five minutes afterward. The last thing he saw was a crowd of people shouting in unison, "Set it, and forget it!" .


	11. Ten

Lex wondered where Kal was living. And, the more he thought about it, the more he began to wonder how bad a neighborhood Kal lived in. He'd said that he and his parents. . . weren't acting like family, anymore, so Lex knew Kal wasn't living there at the farm with them. Which meant he was in the city, and since it also followed that his money came from his salary at The Daily Planet, Clark wasn't likely to be making enough yet for a really good apartment in a decent neighborhood. And that meant that he was most likely renting a shit hole down near the Slums -- because he couldn't afford better and because he was still like Clark in a lot of ways.

Clark had felt guilty about almost everything that went wrong around him and Kal and Tomorrow were following that unhealthy pattern to a tee. Lex huffed a bit, thinking of how Kal probably deliberately chose one of the worst "apartments" in Metropolis. It would be just like him to want to be right in the middle of the poorest, most gang-riddled area in the entire city limits. He'd see it as his duty to be there. He'd feel like he was stealing someone else's happy ending if he were to live somewhere nicer.

After all, Kal didn't have to worry about his own personal safety like everyone else. If he took the shittiest apartment, then that would mean, to Kal's twisted, loopy, alien mind, that someone else got the nicer one across town, the one Kal could still probably afford over on the east side. That apartment would house some fragile young woman, or some nerdy guy who wasn't invincible and who couldn't stop a bullet with his chest, whose body couldn't bend a knife or withstand a hard beating.

Lex sighed, setting his pen down. He rubbed his eyes, and then leaned back in his chair. He'd been trying to get some things signed before he left for the day, but every time he tried to focus he inevitably drifted back to thinking about Kal.

Worrying about him.

Kal had called this morning at 11:36. Lanie, Lex's assistant, had put him on hold while she checked with Lex as to whether or not he wanted to talk to him. 

Lex made certain she was clear on the fact that from now on Kal's calls were always patched straight through.

He'd asked where Lex wanted to meet, saying he was taking the afternoon off from the paper. Lex had told him to come by the penthouse. It was private, Lex said. 

"In case you feel like talking about. . . anything." Lanie had come back into the room, a stack of papers in her hands. Lex gestured for her to come closer, raising his eyebrows in question. She gently set down the stack, then mimed writing with a pen. 'Your signature,' she mouthed.

Lex chuckled. Lanie had used her left hand to imitate him signing, and there had to be at least a hundred sheets of paper sitting on his desk. Lanie smirked, then started backing up towards the door, her eyes never leaving Lex's face. He rolled his eyes and made a shooing motion with his right hand.

Once the door was closed behind her, Lex said, "Sorry about that. My assistant just came to give me more homework."

"That's all right," Kal's voice said across the line. "I know all about homework." He'd put a certain emphasis on that, and Lex wondered if Kal were indirectly talking to someone else.

"Did I miss something?"

"No," Kal replied. "Sorry." There was a pause and then his voice said, "Lois was glaring at me, but she's walked away now, so it's okay." There was a heavy sigh, then the faint squeaking sound of what Lex assumed to be Clark's rusty old chair.

"Troubles at work?" Lex asked. He dragged the stack of papers across his desk, figuring he'd better get started on them if he ever wanted to go home.

"Just-- " A stretch of silence, during which Lex filled out five forms, then, "It was just really hard to come to work today, and everything that could go wrong here has, and-- "

"Wrong?"

Kal gave a sigh, then said, "Well, not wrong, exactly. Just-- everyone needs something today, and my editor didn't like the piece I wrote, and, God, Lois is driving me crazy. I swear, she's insane."

"What's the article about? Was it one for tomorrow's edition, or is it-- ?"

"It was the one in today's paper, Lex. He said that he regretted having me write it." Kal paused, and Lex set his pen down to better concentrate on what Kal was saying. That hadn't sounded like a frustrated sigh, or even an angry one. It sounded like one of the ones Kal had given over the phone last night.

"He basically told me that I was wasting everyone's time with this, and that I was so far into it that I couldn't even see that what I wrote wasn't unbiased. He told me that I was-- " Kal gave another one of those caustic little chuckles -- the ones completely devoid of any actual humor. "Get this. He said, 'Kent, you're too close to this story. Too involved. You need to step back and put it in perspective.'"

This time, the sigh that floated between the phone line was Lex's. "I don't think I even need to guess who your editor is. I can already figure it out just by the words he used. Kal, you need to take everything Perry White says with a big grain of salt. Especially what he says about his own personal opinions. That man changes his mind to the tune of public opinion, and he's fired several reporters over the years simply because The Planet got hate mail over their articles. Be careful around him."

"Well, I had read some stuff, but I never thought-- Really? Perry did that?" Kal's voice got a little quieter, more contemplative. "Well, I'll be. Huh."

"So," Lex began, "my place? Or did you have somewhere in particular you wanted to go?"

"Yeah, your place is fine. Just-- if I'm a little late or something, don't hold it against me, okay?"

Lex sighed again. "You're going patrolling before, aren't you?"

" . . . yeah. I didn't go last night and-- "

"That's because you were fighting that Parasite for hours. And then you were too drained to. Are you sure you're even ready to jump back in there? Maybe you need to take a few days off -- regroup, get well again."

"No, I'm fine, really," Kal said, and Lex knew nothing he could say would change Kal's mind. In one ear and out the other, he thought.

That, too, was just like Clark. Something else that had remained the same, even when so much was different.

"Afternoon, then? Around what time?"

" . . . three. I'll be there at three." Kal stopped again. Lex could hear him take another deep breath before he said, "Thank you, Lex."

Lex swallowed, reaching for the pen again and flipping to the next place he needed to sign.

"You're welcome. I'll see you around three."

***

He'd slept a total of forty-three minutes last night, and even that was only because of Lex. After he'd woken up, Kal had shucked off his sleep pants and shirt, dragged his suit back on, stepped into the boots Tomorrow wore, and had tried to take off out his window to go on a much needed patrol of the city.

He hadn't been able to. He'd attempted to fly for a good ten minutes, growing increasingly panicked and terrified when he couldn't. What if the Parasite had permanently taken away his powers? What if they never came back?

But after pacing around the tiny apartment for awhile, Kal finally managed to calm down enough to test his other powers. And breathed an immediate sigh of relief when his vision still worked. It wasn't all gone, then. Maybe the power it took to fly was just too much for his body right now, but the enhanced vision over humans didn't require as much so it was still on-line.

He wondered how long it would be before he was back at full strength.

The article was what he spent his time on, when patrolling was out of the question. He pushed through the first draft quickly, just trying to get in everything he could. Then, the second time through, he took out all the things Clark wouldn't be able to know. He whittled it down to the facts, the obvious, and made it blend together better, adding segues and transitions -- which always came second in his writing, one of the main complaints Lois repeatedly fired off at him.

He went through the article four times total. It took him 20 minutes.

He had his spot saved for him in the morning's paper, and just barely made the deadline. The headline read: 'Parasite Strikes Metropolis -- The Destructive Monster Behind Five Murders.'

Afterward, Clark Kent simply went upstairs to his floor at the paper and hung out at his desk. He was the only one for six floors above and seven below, and he could almost breathe properly again. People started trickling in around seven, and by eight o'clock in the morning nearly all of the people who worked on his floor were walking around quickly, pouring horrible coffee, making photocopies, and talking and whispering about everything from sports to Tomorrow's exploits last night. The last made Kal wince inwardly. 

When Perry White came in at 8:45, Clark ducked behind the water cooler, drawing out the process of getting a small cup of the stuff for a very respectable 16 minutes and 38 seconds. Then he helped out Jake, whose desk was next to Clark's, with some copying and collating. That lasted for a good hour. He made a run down to the coffee shop, and almost succeeded in convincing himself that he wasn't disappointed by Whitney's absence there. 

By 10:45, Kal was starting to feel good about the article. No one had said anything to him about it. That is. . . until Perry came storming out of his office. The morning's edition was rolled up tightly in his hand and his whole face was scrunched up in anger and distaste. Clark tried to scurry away over to the elevators, hoping that by some miracle he'd be able to get in one before White spotted him, but good luck hadn't been with him for years.

"Kent!" White yelled. All at once, the whole floor seemed to go silent and turn as one to stare at him. Sighing, Clark lifted his head and met his editor's gaze.

Damn, White looked so red that Kal was worried he might have a stroke right there in the middle of the room.

With a harsh jab towards his office with his finger, White turned and began marching back inside it. Clark dropped his eyes to the dull gray carpet and began the long, shameful walk to the editor's office. The conversation began to pick up around him again – snatches of his name and words like 'Tomorrow' and 'Op-ed,' and scariest of all, 'fired.' 

He came into the office and White had his back to the door, looking out a window that faced Luthorcorp. across the street. It made Kal feel a little stronger, being able to see that building behind White. 

Lex was in there probably. Maybe sitting in his office, doing good things and charming the socks off business associates.

"Sir?" Clark finally asked, tired of the silence and just wanting to get it over with.

"Shut the door and have a seat, Kent," White responded, still facing away from him.

When he was seated and the door was closed, Perry turned around and sat in the chair behind his desk. He looked Clark over closely for a second, then asked, "Do you like this job, Clark? Is working here a fulfilling and important aspect of your life? Because if it's not, if you're just here because you don't know what else you want to do, then you're wasting time -- yours, mine, and everyone else's who's trying to get a job here. So," he said, leaning forward over the top of the desk, "is being a reporter part of you, or are you just screwing around?"

Anger was Kal's first reaction, which he automatically suppressed and kept off his face. Wouldn't do for meek and mild Clark Kent to gain the reputation for a hot temper.

"I like it here fine, sir. I enjoy my work and I try my best every day. May I-- may I ask what brought this on? If it's something I've done wrong, or-- "

"No, no," White said, stepping over Clark's words and brushing them aside in impatience and complete disrespect.

Again, forget about it, Kal, he told himself. Keep up the act. Smile and grin and shuffle your feet and push up your glasses and just sit back and take it.

This is who Clark Kent is now.

"What I'm getting at is, why are you here, Kent?" White's voice had risen in volume, and Kal got the impression that he'd been trying for understanding and soothing before, and had now abandoned that approach in favor of the tried-and-true Perry White barrage.

"I want to be a reporter, sir. I want to tell people the truth and-- "

"Ah-ha!" White crowed, interrupting Clark again. "You want to tell people the truth?" His face fell suddenly and became thunderous and angry. "Then what the hell is this?" White held up the paper, refolded so as to frame Clark's article. "This isn't unbiased, good solid reporting. This isn't what you've been writing for the past few months." He turned the paper around so he himself could look at it in consternation. "This isn't anything like what I expect from you."

Dropping it back on to the desk, White said, "It's. . . decent work. . . for the opinion pages, maybe, but not for front-page reporting. This isn't the facts laid out here," he said, with a jab of his finger at the paper. White was staring at Clark like he couldn't decide whether he was more angry or confused by Clark's actions. And Kal just couldn't figure out what the hell Perry was even talking about. Opinions? Where had he put in his opinion in that entire article? 

"Sir, I just put down all the information I found, from both my own research and the words of my contacts. And I honestly did my very best not to put any personal feelings in it, to only relay the facts and-- and not judge what happened."

"Your 'contacts'?" White snorted. "You mean that alien flying around the city?" he asked, with a strange glimmer in his eye. "How is it that you, Kent, of all my reporters -- of Lane, even -- how is it that you're the only one in the entire city who got an interview with Tomorrow last night?"

"I don't know what you're asking, sir. He saved me a few times, and in return I said that I'd help-- "

"Yeah, yeah, I know the story." He took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair and not looking at Clark. "Fact is, you're too damn close to this story. You're," his eyes met Clark's, "too involved. You don't even realize how this reads, and I think you need to step back and take a breath. Put it in perspective; get your head on straight; then, maybe start again. Or work on something new. It really makes no difference." White sighed. "I regret assigning you this, Clark. I don't think it was a good fit for you.

"I want you here. You've got the makings of a truly gifted reporter, but you put too much of yourself in your writing. I'd hate to see you burn out within the first year. It's happened before, and. . . " White trailed off, still looking at Clark, intensely.

Finally, after the silence had stretched out between them, Clark asked, "Sir?"

White seemed to study him for a bit longer, then shook his head. "Get outta here, Kent. Take the day off, or something, but don't come back until tomorrow." He stood up and went back to looking out his window. Clark pushed up and got to his feet, walking over to the office door and pulling it open. 

But just as he was about to step through, White said, his back still to Clark, "And get some sleep, too. You look terrible."

Kal shook his head and left the office, leaving the door open. 

He crossed the room amid whispers, points, and stares in his direction. Clark groaned aloud upon reaching his desk and finding Lois perched on the edge of it. She just smiled wickedly at him.

"Rough morning, Smallville?"

"Yes, and you're not making it any better."

"Ouch. Is that any way to talk to a lady? I was concerned about the state of your employment, and simply wanted to console and comfort my partner in his time of need."

Clark scowled at her, and moved to sit down in his squeaky chair. He glanced at his watch and decided that it was okay to call Lex now -- not too early, and not so late that he appeared disrespectful, or to have forgotten. 

"Look, Kent, the whole reason I came over here was to ask you a favor. Okay?" Lois shimmied off his desk, rearranging her skirt and smoothing it down her legs. For some incredibly odd reason, that action reminded him of Lex. It was probably because Lex always wore those long jackets, and he made sure to smooth them down before he sat. And when he was nervous, Lex straightened his clothes compulsively.

Yeah, that was it.

Kal picked up his phone and dialed Lex's office number. Lois was glaring at him, and soon he realized it was because she'd asked for another favor and he hadn't responded. Hadn't instantly given in and said 'Yes, Lois! I'd love to serve your every whim! I am only here to please you, Goddess!' like she wanted him to, expected him to.

"Well?" she asked indignantly, after he just kept ignoring her. 

But he waved his hand at her in annoyance when just then a female voice came on the line and said, "Lex Luthor's office. How may I help you?"

"I'd like to speak with him, please." He hesitated, then went on to say, "It's Clark Kent."

"Please hold," she said. Then there was a beep and some jazz song was piping out the earpiece of his phone.

"Who're you talking to?" Lois asked him, the thrill of getting some maybe-gossip brightening her eyes.

"It's none of your business," Clark replied, brusquely. "And you'll just have to get someone else to help you this time. White told me to take the afternoon off, so I'm not up for it."

"Well, that's not fair!" she whined. "You're my partner-- "

"Only for another week, and then you'll have to find someone else to do your grunt work-- "

" --and that means," she said, loudly, pushing her voice over Clark's, doggedly. "It's your duty to assist and-- "

"Assist?" Clark cut in. "Assist, as in I'm your assistant? My job is not to babysit you, Lois. You and your articles are not my job! My job is-- "

" --make sure that I'm okay and that the truth is brought to light. You know, like you're always slagging on me for." Next, her features scrunched up and she said in a deep, low voice, "'Lois, it's our obligation as reporters to make sure the people of this city-- '"

"Clark!" Lex's voice suddenly sounded from the earpiece and Clark waved his hand at Lois, urgently trying to get her to shut up. "I was wondering when I'd hear from you."

"Yeah, well, I thought we should decide where we're meeting. I'm taking the afternoon off, so where did you want to-- ?"

"Aren't you gonna help me, Clark?!" Lois hissed. Kal just jabbed the index finger of his free hand into his ear, meeting Lois' glare with one of his own.

"What about the penthouse? It's private. In case you feel like talking about. . . anything." Lex paused then, and Kal wondered if he were doing something else besides just talking on the phone. Multitasking was definitely Lex's style.

"Sorry about that," Lex said, after a moment. "My assistant just came to give me more homework."

"That's all right," Kal replied. He and Lois were still making faces at each other because it was Clark's desk and damned if he'd walk away from his own spot just because she was being unreasonable. "I know all about homework."

That got him an indignant huff from Lois, who, with one last sneer, turned her back on him and strutted off.

"Did I miss something?" Lex's voice asked, confusion coloring his words.

Kal followed Lois with his eyes as she marched across the floor. She finally stopped in front of Olsen's desk, and he sighed. Knowing those two, he'd have to listen closely today to make sure they didn't get in over their heads hunting down one of Lois' crazy leads.

"No," Kal replied. "Sorry."


	12. Eleven

Patience had never really been one of Lex's strong suits. When required for certain things -- plans, business deals, and such -- he had enough self control to stick it out, but in general waiting just made him angry. And twitchy.

And Kal wasn't even late. There was still a good 20 minutes until their agreed upon meeting time of three o'clock. Lex just couldn't seem to stop moving and felt more nervous than he had for a long time. Hell, he hadn't even been this wired the last time Kal had come over. . . to go out on their date. Or the time before, the first time they'd really talked in over seven years.

So why was he so rattled now?

Perhaps it was because it wouldn't be just the two of them in the apartment today. Although Beth was truly one of the sneakiest people Lex had ever known, her presence would still be felt. Kal would no doubt 'hear' her within two seconds of stepping inside the apartment, and maybe they wouldn't be able to talk as candidly with her here. The chance of her overhearing something was too high probably. So, he should just send her home, tell her to take the afternoon off from cleaning/babysitting him, and then-- 

But Lex didn't move. He knew she was in his office now, vacuuming and dusting and picking up his trash, and all he had to do was walk in there and ask her to-- no, tell her to go and she would. Albeit, with a smirk or a suspicious frown, but nonetheless she would leave. But, suddenly, with a feeling of dread, Lex realized why he didn't move towards his office, didn't make any attempt whatsoever to get Beth out of the penthouse.

He wanted her to stay. And more than that, he wanted her to see Kal. 

He wanted Kal to see Beth, wanted them to meet and shake hands and smile at each other while he looked on.

Lex wanted with a deep ache in his chest to have that insanely overbearing woman meet Kal, and like him. He wanted Kal to smile Clark's self-effacing smile at one of the barbs Beth would no doubt direct towards him as soon as their hands touched.

Lex had no family now, really. No one but Beth and her brother Charlie. One was on his payroll, and the other a long ago club pal.

He wanted Kal to meet his family, his self-made family, the one he chose, not the one he'd born into.

His mother and Julian had been dead for a long time. The third anniversary of Lionel's death had been last month, and Lucas was. . . well, he and Lucas had never gotten along. There were no e-mails or Christmas cards between the two of them, and Lex knew they were both better off for it. Lucas was a reminder of what an evil, son-of-a-bitch Lionel had been, treating his son -- even if illegitimate -- like that. 

As for his half-brother, Lex had the feeling his own life was just another example of what had been denied Lucas all those years. Three years ago, almost two months exactly after Lionel's death, Lex's assistant had called in to his office to tell him his brother was waiting to see him. 

Lucas had come in, surprisingly silent and devoid of all that arrogance and smarm he'd always pushed in Lex's face during their previous encounters--

***

Lex gestured with his hand towards one of the chairs, but Lucas just shook his head and took off his sunglasses, putting them into a case which he then slid into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

"How about a drink, then?" Lex asked. He moved over to the bar and poured himself a glass of scotch, looking back at Lucas with the decanter poised over a second glass.

"Sure," Lucas said with a nod. He crossed the distance and leaned up against the bar. As Lex handed him his scotch, Lucas held the glass up to the light with a small smile. He turned and shifted it, the sunlight hitting the angles of the crystal and casting arcs of white light around the office. Then, with a grin, Lucas moved and clinked his glass against Lex's.

"To new opportunities," he said. Lucas took a healthy swallow of the scotch and moved over to stand in front of the large windows, seemingly casual, but Lex had caught the sadness in Lucas' voice. 

Lex had taken over Lionel's office just in the last month. Parts of the room, he was still working on, getting rid of his father's more grandiose decorating style and slowly replacing it with his own. But Lex thought the view was the one area where all three Luthors would feel the same. Although, technically, Lucas was a Dunleavy. Looking out on the city, though, knowing their place and what they could have, what power they held over those down below -- that was something they could've all agreed on.

"So, how is it being the big boss?" Lucas asked.

Lex smiled. "Good. The people are so much nicer now they know I can ruin them without having to get his permission."

They both chuckled. Then, Lucas turned to look at him, and Lex just raised his eyebrows in question.

"Aren't you going to ask?" 

Lex shook his head in reply and finished off his scotch, setting the glass behind them on the desk.

"You'll get around to it eventually, but I think I already have a pretty good idea." Then meeting Lucas' eyes, he said, "Don't I."

Lucas smiled again. That was when Lex could most easily see they were brothers. When Lucas smiled, even more so when he grinned that feral grin of his, he looked like Lionel. When Lucas smirked or laughed, Lex could see bits of himself in Lucas' face. 

"I suppose you do," he replied. "He kept me down, you know." And Lex nodded because he had known.

"And now that he's gone. . . " Lex trailed off, a questioning tone to his voice.

"I don't want much, okay?" Lucas said, and Lex saw all that cockiness flow right out of him. Lucas looked so. . . naturally sure of himself now. He looked confident instead of arrogant, and Lex realized with a start that Lucas was 23 now. He was a grownup, an adult. He was a Luthor man.

Lex nodded, putting his eyes back on the streets below them. He did it out of courtesy. Lucas was asking for money, for help in getting started in his own life. No sense in making an already awkward and uncomfortable situation even more so.

"I've been thinking," Lucas said. He gave a little sharp-edged chuckle. "That's all I've been able to do the last few years, but. . . I was thinking, a casino. . . " Lucas trailed off, and Lex heard the uncertainty in his voice.

With a genuine smile, Lex said, "My God, that's perfect, Lucas." He turned to look at Lucas again, and grinned. "Who better than you to run a gambling joint?" Then he laughed. Lucas grinned again, chuckling a little as he too finished his drink and set his empty glass down next to Lex's.

"Plus," Lucas said, "just think of the old fucker's face if he knew. 'A Luthor gambling establishment?'" he said, in a remarkably accurate impersonation of Lionel's expansive tone. "'No, I will not have it!'"

Lex laughed so hard tears came to his eyes, and heard Lucas wheezing beside him. He reached up and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"It's worth it for that reason alone," Lex said. Then taking Lucas' hand, he shook it. 

"You'll have your casino, Lucas. You'll have all the casinos you can handle." 

***

Evidently Beth had finished with the home office, as Lex could hear her moving down the hallway towards him. She rounded the corner, a little caddy of cleaning supplies in one hand and two trash bags in the other. Her eyes met Lex's, and she chuckled.

"Seven minutes, huh?" she asked, glancing over at the clock on the wall. As Beth moved past him, she shifted the trash bags over to her other hand, patting Lex on the back with her now empty one. "Don't worry, Lex," she said, her face trying briefly for mock-consoling, but all too soon giving way to laughter. "You're still more contained and composed than Charlie. It's those eyes that give you away, though."

"Oh, shut up," Lex muttered, pushing her hand away. Beth just cackled wickedly and moved around the kitchen island, dropping the bags and cleaning supplies with a thud. "And I'd very much appreciate it if you'd not gouge or scratch my floors," he said, with a disdainful sniff.

Beth just shook her head, and with a smirk waggled her eyebrows lecherously at him. "You've just got your panties in a bunch cos your boy is coming over. Don't worry, I'm leaving in just a second, and then you'll have him all to yourself."

She went over to the kitchen sink, and, bending over, stashed all the cleaners and rags in the cabinet beneath it. Then coming back over, she shrugged on the backpack she seemed to wear everywhere and picked up the trash bags. 

"I'll see ya Wednesday, Lex," Beth tossed out, half facing him as she started towards the door. "Take it eas-- "

"Wait," Lex said. He moved forward, walking up to her and taking the trash from her hands. "I-- I, uh. . . "

Beth cocked an eyebrow at him, a small, confused smile playing around her lips. "Boss?" she asked, quietly.

"Stay," he said, tersely. Then, avoiding her eyes, Lex said, "You haven't met Clark yet. And you promised to make us a feast last time, didn't you?" He pushed past her, opening the door to the hallway and walking the trash to the chute. On his way back into the penthouse, he heard the elevator ding and watched as the doors opened. Kal stepped out, his gray-tinged face lighting up beautifully when he saw Lex.

Lex waited for him to catch up, reaching out a hand and tentatively touching it to Kal's forehead. With a sad smile, he said, "I suppose you always run hot,"

Kal nodded. "A bit." He shifted closer to Lex, and then slowly, his eyes on Lex's reaction, he laid his hands on Lex's hips. Kal's head lowered and he touched his hot forehead to Lex's, his eyes closing and a tired sigh escaping.

"Hey," Kal whispered.

"Hey," Lex responded. And, seeing a moment, Lex took it. 

He lifted his head, pushing forward and tilting it to the side, and pressed his lips to Kal's.

"Lex," was breathed into his mouth, and he smiled in triumph.

Vindication.

***

His powers still hadn't come back. He'd left his desk, only to take an elevator up to the roof. From there, Kal had tried to lift up.

But he couldn't. He couldn't fly and it was starting to really worry him.

All those years of wishing to be normal, wishing to be only human like everyone else on this planet, and now he was desperate to have his powers. If he didn't-- if he couldn't patrol, if he couldn't save . . . what was he doing?

He went to the park down the street from The Planet. He sat on a bench and watched people for hours. Runners, walkers, women and men pushing baby strollers, the mime on the corner, the young artist down on his luck who drew people's portraits for money, the photographers -- amateur and professional alike -- who took snapshots of it all. Kal sat on that bench for hours, watching all of humanity pass him by. All but the weak, the helpless, those who truly needed him. Here were the happy people and here he was, sitting on a stone park bench feeling sorry for himself.

Kal stood up around two, walked along the path and across the street, and pushed open the glass door of the coffee shop. Stepping inside, Kal relaxed for a moment, his most immediate concern what he should order to drink.

That was, until he heard Whitney's voice.

Turning around, Kal saw him over by the window again. Whitney waved at him with a grin, folding his newspaper up as Kal came closer. Pulling out the chair across from Whitney, Kal slumped into it with little grace.

"Hey, Clark," Whitney said cheerfully. "How are-- ?" He paused, and then after looking at Kal for a moment, went on to ask in a more solemn voice, "You feelin' okay, man? You're awfully pale."

"Just tired," Kal said. He deliberately pitched his voice low, but didn't bother falling into Clark-Kent-nervous-reporter's speech patterns. Looking into Whitney's eyes, Kal watched the man get it.

"I heard about that, of course," Whitney said, quietly. He shrugged, then with an embarrassed smile amended, "Well, I read about it actually." He met Kal's gaze head on, not flinching even a little. "The article you wrote. So, how are you really doing? Because, to be perfectly honest, you look like crap."

Kal felt a smile tug at his lips. Giving in to it a little, he replied, "I'm okay. Like I said, just tired, is all. And you?"

Whitney leaned back in his chair, pushing it onto only two legs. He smiled again and looked out the window as he said, "I'm doin' well. Really well. A paper I did on Stephen Crane is going to be published in some big-name journal and-- Oh!" The chair came thudding down onto all four legs again as Whitney leaned across the table top closer to Clark and began talking in a low, excited voice. He sounded amused. 

"So I talk to my mom every week, right?" he said, rhetorically. "I make up funny stories about the city and my coworkers, and she tells me all the gossip floatin' around Strangeville these days. Anyway," he said, with a wave of his hand, "this morning, she calls me up like normal. We talk for about 20 minutes maybe, before she just jumps right in and starts off on this story about, and here's the kicker, Lana Poppe and how she actually saw Tomorrow right up close the other day."

Whitney was grinning and his eyes were shining. He obviously loved knowing who Tomorrow was, and no doubt found it hilarious that he knew the truth when Lana Poppe nee Lang didn't. After all, who would have thought that Clark Kent and Whitney Fordman would ever have had enough in common to actually be able to talk to each other for extended periods of time?

Kal certainly wouldn't've.

"So?" Whitney asked, eyebrows raised and a bright smile lighting up his face. "You went out there? Did you talk to her?" He bit his lip, and Kal could tell Whitney was trying not to laugh outright in glee. "As Tomorrow?"

"No," Kal replied. He sighed heavily, but that just made Whitney's grin grow even bigger. Rolling his eyes, Kal said, "I was just. . . checking up on her. It's just her daughter's puppy happened to run out of the house at that moment, and when she came running after it, she saw me. What?" Kal asked, indignantly. Whitney had a hand covering his mouth, and as Kal watched, his shoulders began to shake. 

"What's so damned funny?" Kal asked, and Whitney exploded in laughter. So Kal sat there, eventually folding his arms across his chest angrily, while Whitney chortled and snickered to himself.

Wiping his eyes, Whitney finally met Kal's stare and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, man," he said, "just. . . the mental image of a puppy coming up to Tomorrow, this cute little girl right on its heels-- " The chortle was back. "And then here comes Lana!" Whitney dissolved into another round of giggles -- and that's what he intended to call them to Whitney's face later on -- and Kal actually felt his worry start to drain away. Watching Whitney be so delighted in all this actually helped take Kal's mind off some of the more depressing parts of his life. 

"Well," Kal said, and Whitney looked up, "I was floating actually, so the dog came to a stop right underneath me. It looked up and tilted its head, you know." Here he mimicked how little Laura Poppe's dog had looked up at Tomorrow. Whitney started snickering again. "And this dark-haired little girl-- I mean, my God, Whitney, it was like looking at Lana age three again. This girl comes running up and, with no hesitation at all, just bends right down and picks up the puppy. . . right beneath me."

Kal met Whitney's eyes, somehow having stared far away while he'd talked, and saw the other man wasn't laughing anymore. Whitney looked like he had the other day, when he'd waved at Tomorrow from the parking lot.

He looked. . . awed.

"She wasn't afraid or nervous. Just came up like I was any other person on the street and picked up her puppy." 

Whitney nodded at him encouragingly. "Then what? Did Lana come out or-- ?"

"Yeah, the little girl smiled and hugged the dog, and then I heard Lana say her name from across the lawn. 'Laura,' she shouted. I looked over. . . and there she was," he finished.

Whitney nodded again. He looked remarkably sad, but understanding as well. Kal quirked his lips at the thought that if there were anyone else in the world who could understand the bittersweet feeling of seeing Lana living such a happy life with someone else. . . it would be Whitney.

"And what did she do?" he asked, quietly.

Kal blinked and said, "She walked up and took Laura's hand. Then she thanked me, said Mark was grateful for when I'd prevented an accident awhile ago, and told me-- " He looked down at the table, his fingers tracing the grain of the wood. "She told me I was a blessing to the world."

They were both silent for a moment. Then Whitney said, "Wow." This time it was Kal who nodded in sad understanding. "She's really grown up, hasn't she?" Whitney said.

Kal raised his head and met the other man's eyes. 

"We all have, Whitney." He waited a beat, then said, tilting his head to the side as though thinking about it, "Well, maybe you haven't. . ."

Whitney chuckled and Kal smiled, and looking out the window at the people passing by. . .

Kal didn't feel quite as separate and alone anymore.


	13. Twelve

"So," Lex said, opening the door for Kal then passing through, himself. He watched as Kal slowly drifted over to the sofa, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. "Lois, huh?"

Kal's head jerked up to look at Lex in complete bafflement. "Lois?" he asked incredulously. His brow wrinkled beautifully and Lex chuckled, crossing the room and sliding into a spot next to Kal. "What's she got to do with anything?"

"On the phone today. . . " Lex questioned.

"Oh. That," Kal responded. He leaned his head back against the sofa, but turned his head so he was still looking at Lex. "That was just. . . Lois being Lois." Kal shrugged.

"So she always treats you like a doormat?" Lex asked, raising his eyebrows.

"She doesn't treat me like a doormat," he replied indignantly. Kal turned his head away, eyes shifting to look out the windows of the penthouse. "It's just how she is. Bossy and eager and, at strange times, a perfectionist." Lex focused on Kal's profile, noting lines and shadows in his face that hadn't been there a few days ago.

"But you're her partner, right?" Lex asked him. "Does she respect you, or is this another one of your self-sacrificing gestures?"

Kal moved his head back to stare at Lex, that scowl still firmly affixed to his face. "What?" he asked, and Lex recognized the tone as pure, unadulterated Clark-Kent-confusion. 

Lex smiled. "Oh, come now," he replied. "You've a martyr complex as big as the state of Texas. Look, Kal," he said, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "I just want to make sure everything's. . . " He paused, mid-sentence, working to find a better way of phrasing things. "I want your life to be going well, for things to be as good as they can be under the circumstances." Frowning to himself, Lex went on, "I guess I'm just trying to ask how your day went," he finished weakly.

"It was okay, Lex," Kal said quietly. "And it's had its good moments," he added, with a shy little smile on his face.

Lex chuckled. "Carpe diem, Kal," he said. Lex shifted on the sofa, stretching his arm out across the back of it, and brushing against Kal's shoulders as he did so. With a sigh, he mimicked Kal and slouched down, bringing his feet up to rest on the coffee table in front of them. "I see an opening, I take it."

Kal snorted, and as he shook his head back and forth, the curls of his hair moved and shifted. "Well, I liked it," he said. He looked right into Lex's eyes and said, "I liked kissing you, Lex."

"Good," he replied. "Because now that I've got a taste. . . " he said in a low whisper, trailing off as he moved forward. 

"No such thing as too much," Kal murmured, closing the gap between them and sealing his lips against Lex's. It started out just like that, a pressing together of lips and nothing more, but Lex soon pushed it. He opened his mouth, licking at the seam of Kal's lips until they parted with a gasp. Lifting his other hand to cup Kal's cheek, Lex slipped his tongue inside the other man's mouth, twining it around Kal's own and sucking with his lips.

And Kal responded beautifully, arching up to press his chest against Lex's and giving a low moan of satisfaction when one of his hands found its way to the back of Lex's head. He tilted his head to the side slightly and his tongue slid along the roof of Lex's mouth.

Suddenly there was the scratching sound of someone clearing their throat nearby, and Lex broke the kiss to turn his head. Beth was leaning against the doorframe, cheshire-like grin on her face. "Boss man," she said, deliberately calling him that to irritate him. "What time did you wanna eat? Dinner'll take about 45 minutes to cook."

"Six?" Lex guessed, hesitating. He glanced at Kal, seeing the other man's eyes focused on Beth. "Um," he stuttered, disentangling himself from Kal and getting to his feet. With a wave, he beckoned Beth over and then gestured to Kal. "Beth," he said, "this is Clark Kent. And Clark, this is Beth Chase. She helps around here. She's making dinner tonight, so you needn't fear any accidental poisonings or botulism scares."

Beth knocked him in the chest with her hand, then moved it down and stuck it in Kal's face. "He's actually improved quite a bit in the kitchen," she told Kal, her smile sharp and calculating. "I've got him up to boiling eggs and cooking vegetables now. And he makes a mean batch of mashed potatoes."

Kal laughed and lurched to his feet, grabbing up Beth's hand in both of his own and holding it tightly. Well, tight for a human, that was.

"You must have the patience of a saint," he said, grinning that Clark Kent mega-watt grin. Releasing her hand, Kal stuck his own into the pockets of his slacks and chuckled. "I remember the disaster in the castle's kitchen when we tried to make tiramisu." Looking over to Lex, he went on to add, "Lex thought it'd help me study for an exam, one he was helping me with of course." Another chuckle and Kal shook his head. "I wonder if anyone ever noticed the stains on the ceiling."

Lex managed a straight-faced shake of his head, but as soon as he met Kal's laughing eyes he was done for. Chuckling and grinning like a fool, Lex added with a raise of his eyebrows, "Yes, but whose idea was it to just dump everything into the espresso, hmmm? You said it'd be like eating cereal, if I recall correctly," Lex mused, with a look of mock thoughtfulness.

"Oh, God," Kal said, looking up to the ceiling with an embarrassed sigh. "I'd totally forgotten that. Man, what was I thinking?" He chuckled again, and shook his head. 

"I've yet to meet a man," Beth broke in, "who doesn't think he knows everything, and that includes in the kitchen. My dear brother, whom I love to bits, manages to burn everything, from pasta to leftovers. I've been trying for upwards of 15 years to teach that man how to cook, but Charlie. . . " She trailed off, smiling in exasperation and shaking her head.

"What are you making tonight, Beth?" Kal asked, with a pleasant smile on his face.

"Well, it's a variation on the classic Reuben sandwich," she said. Lex just stood back and watched -- Kal nodding his head and smiling in interest, and Beth slowly becoming more animated as she talked.

"You see," she was saying. "Everyone-- well, most everyone," she amended, "likes Reubens, right? But they aren't 'date food.'" Here she made air quotes, and Lex rolled his eyes at her not so subtle hint to Kal. "So I figured, why not make it one? Bingo!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together abruptly. "A Reuben casserole. Easy to make, quick to cook, and just as delicious as the usual thing, but without all the mess!" Grinning at her own genius, Beth raised her eyebrows at Kal, as though awaiting his reaction.

"That's. . . really cool," he said, that big grin unfolding on his face again. "You must be a great cook, to come up with that and create it yourself." He waited a beat, then said, "Need any help?" with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, no, no, no," Beth replied, waving her hands at him. "After that story you two were just reminiscing about? I don't think so, mister." She put a hand on her hip and pointed sternly at Kal. "You stay out of my kitchen, young man." With a glance towards Lex, she added, "Keep that one busy, too. He tends to drift off into more. . . scientific explorations when trying to help me. Uh-uh," she said with a final shake of her head. "You guys just relax and I'll have that feast for you at six sharp!" 

A final wave to them, and Beth left the room, heading towards the penthouse's back rooms.

"And that was Beth," Lex said, still staring at the spot where she'd been standing.

"I like her," Kal said. He turned to meet Lex's eyes, smiling broadly. "She's good for you."

Lex shrugged and moved over to the bar against the far wall. His back to Kal, Lex said, "She certainly livens up the place."

"Pour one for me?" Kal's voice asked, and Lex turned around to look at him. He was serious, a bit of challenge and defiance in those eyes, and Lex just raised his eyebrows and pulled another glass down off the shelf.

"It's vodka," he said, pouring an equal amount into the second glass.

"That's fine," Kal replied. His voice was right beside Lex, the breath from his exhale pushing against the skin of Lex's neck. "A new adventure," he whispered right into Lex's ear.

"Stop that, you," Lex said, turning slightly to press the glass into Kal's hand. "Last thing I need is for Beth to come in and see us macking on each other like a pair of teenagers." Taking a sip of his drink, he added, "I'd never hear the end of it. Probably won't already, with the way she interrupted us earlier."

Kal chuckled and took a deep swallow of the vodka, his eyes widening and a flush rising in his cheeks. With a wheeze, Kal brought the glass down, staring at it incredulously.

"Damn," he said, as though awed.

Lex chuckled. "It's not beer. You are supposed to sip, not chug it."

Kal gave him a mock glare, the brightness of his eyes and twitching of his lips the only giveaway that it wasn't real. "Not all us can be so. . . worldly," he replied, to which Lex burst out laughing.

"Me, worldly?" Lex exclaimed. "Didn't I just see something the other day about you being in Thailand?"

Kal just shrugged and took an exaggerated sip of his drink. Lex shook his head, and smiled fondly at him.

"You know," Kal said, lowering his glass and meeting Lex's eyes. "I should take you up sometime."

And forget what Lex had just said a minute ago. Gulping the vodka sounded like a wonderful idea.

***

Dinner was good -- Beth's dish was excellent, as advertised, and he and Lex had even managed to convince her to join them. Beth and Lex took turns telling tales of the infamous Charlie Chase's exploits, Beth's younger brother. Lex featured prominently in several stories -- all about the club scene and his and Charlie's days at Met U, where they'd been lab partners in several different courses. Beth even told them that Charlie had been making noise about throwing a party next month, a celebration of his upcoming 30th birthday.

"Oh, I know he's going to send you an invite," Beth said. She smiled at Lex. "Just imagine the look of complete shock on his face when you show up." She chortled, glancing at Kal and winking at him. "And if you bring Clark with you? He might even dust off his drunken flirting techniques. Surely you wouldn't wanna miss that?" Laughing, she took another sip of the wine they'd had with dinner.

"This soiree going to be in one of those oh-so-trendy venues downtown, or someplace I could actually tolerate?" Lex asked. He was leaning back in his chair, wine glass in hand and a surprisingly mellow cast to his features. "Because if it's the former, you go ahead and tell Charlie he's more than welcome to get in touch with me here. I'll invite him over, make a dinner party out of it, or something."

"I'll do that, Boss," Beth replied, standing up and collecting the dishes from the table. Kal got to his feet and took the plates out of her hands, smiling innocuously when she frowned at him. "No, you sit down, honey," she told him, reaching for them again. "You're a guest here, and this is what I do. Lex," she said, turning to him and sighing, "will you tell this boy to let me do my job? Be a good host and take him in the office for a cigar and cognac, or whatever it is you gentlemen do these days." And with that, she snatched the dishes from Kal's hands and made off with them to the kitchen.

Turning to look at Lex, Kal was met with a raised eyebrow and half-mast eyes.

"You look tired," Lex said. 

"Funny," Kal replied, "I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Lex gave a tight smile and set his empty glass on the table before climbing to his feet. He walked around, coming to a stop in front of Kal. Stretching his hand out, Lex put the back of it up to Kal's forehead, repeating what he'd done outside the apartment earlier. His features scrunched up a bit, and Lex's eyes grew subtly concerned as he met Kal's.

"If anything, you feel hotter," he said quietly. "You sure you're. . . okay?"

Kal nodded, closing his eyes and relishing the chill of Lex's hand against his face. "I'll be fine," he said, giving Lex a smile in an attempt to reassure him.

Lex nodded and took his hand away, only to move it to Kal's back. He gently pushed Kal forward, gesturing with a nod of his head towards the living room. Well, that's what Kal called it anyway. He wasn't sure if it had a different name, but the closest thing it resembled -- with its big screen television and various other entertainment equipment, large, overstuffed furniture and dim lighting -- was the room in the castle back in Smallville. The one he and Lex used to hang out in, when they weren't in the office playing pool, or up in the library scouting out the book collection.

Lex pushed him down onto the sofa they'd been sitting on earlier, but moved away, himself. Kal watched him as he walked over to one of the large cabinets that surrounded the stereo, television, and game consoles. Lex opened a door to the right, seeming to scan the shelves briefly before pulling out a small plastic case.

"What's that?" Kal asked. He'd somehow managed to wedge himself into a corner of the sofa. His body was stretched out at the perfect angle, letting him rest his head on the back of the sofa, while still being able to comfortably see Lex across the room.

"Something that'll bring back the memories, hopefully," Lex replied, his back to Kal as he turned on the high-tech stereo system. Slipping what must be a CD into the player, Lex grabbed up a remote and glided back over to the sofa. He sat down next to Kal, and, with a flick of his wrist, set the music playing.

A synthetic, sad tune trickled out of the speakers, joined shortly after a few measures by a powerful bass line and the glitches and stuttering repetition of a Radiohead song.

Kal smiled, looking over to Lex. The other man wasn't smiling, though, so Kal tried to lighten the mood a little by saying, "You remember that time you got me two tickets to see these guys?" He shook his head in memory. "Man, I can't believe it's been almost a decade since then. . . "

Lex nodded, his eyes finding Kal's with a sorrowful look in them. "Been a long time," he said quietly.

He looked over to Lex again and saw the man's eyes were closed. His lips were moving, mouthing the lyrics, and Kal felt his heart begin to beat a little faster. He dropped his head down, waiting for the song to end, when suddenly the sound quit right in the middle of the last chorus. A dip in the sofa heralded Lex's shift in position, but, assuming him to be getting up, Kal kept his gaze on his hands, willing them to stop clenching.

Which was why the kiss caught him completely off-guard.

"Wha-- ?" he tried to ask, bringing his head up and frowning in confusion.

But Lex just brought him closer, his hand worming its way back behind Kal's head and gripping his hair. Kal gave in, wondering at the shift in Lex's mood, but just going with it. He was happy to be here with him, even with all the baggage they each had.

Finally breaking apart, Lex kept his face close, resting his cheek alongside Kal's and breathing erratically.

"I missed you," he said, and Kal's first thought was

This is Lex. With his wary eyes and his cold hands, and underneath it all such a debilitating loneliness.

Lex, Kal thought, and reached up to cradle his head, bringing them closer together.

"I missed you, too, Lex," Clark whispered.


	14. Thirteen

Kal slept like a log, or at least what Lex thought the proverbial log slept like. They'd plugged in a movie and Kal had drifted off about 45 minutes ago. Lex hadn't moved a muscle, not wanting to disturb the body leaning against his own, the messy head of curls resting on his shoulder and pressing into his neck.

He was worried. When they'd been younger, back in Smallville, Clark had always seemed a bundle of energy -- contained and necessarily restrained in his enthusiasm, but energetic and full of life, nonetheless. Not once had he fallen asleep in Lex's presence, something Lex had mourned for a very long time. Now, though, here was Kal, fast asleep, not even stirring when loud explosions and gunfire in surround sound played out on the screen.

Lex shifted slowly, moving so that instead of sitting upright on the sofa, he was lying on it sideways -- Kal sprawled half on him and half to his side. He ran a hand through Kal's hair, his fingers gently combing through those beautiful curls. His hair was longer than it had been back in those days when they'd been friends in Smallville. So many things had changed, and some days Lex didn't even recognize himself when he looked in the mirror. Looking down on Kal's sleeping face, he wondered if he didn't feel the same. Kal, and not Clark anymore.

But how much of that was true, and how much simply exaggeration? Like a young Alexander Luthor insisting on only being called Lex after his mother died, what if Clark was simply trying to start over?

There was a rustling, and when Lex looked down he saw Kal's eyes moving fast under his eyelids, back and forth, back and forth. He must be dreaming, Lex thought, smoothing a hand down Kal's back. Kal moaned low in his throat and his arms tensed. His face turned sad, mouth frowning and brows drawing together, and Lex wondered what he was dreaming about.

"Fallunsay," Kal murmured. Or at least, that's what Lex heard. "Breckin var saorna. . . "

Lex frowned and ran his hand down Kal's back again. Was he speaking, or were the words just drowned in sleep? Was it. . . Kryptonian?

"Saer Lex. . . " Kal murmured, and his arms suddenly relaxed. He nuzzled closer to Lex and his face gradually smoothed out. No more sad mouth, no more restless shifting of limbs.

"Clark," Lex whispered, and the body on top of him tried to move closer again. Lex gave into a smile and wrapped his arms around the man on top of him. "Sleep. I'm here."

" . . . saer Lex."

Lex squeezed Kal a bit more, then shifted to grab the remote. He turned off the movie and tv with a flick, casting them into semi-darkness. Lights from the city still partially illuminated the room from the large windows on their right, but it was dim enough to get by. Let him sleep, Lex thought, tugging Kal's body further onto his own. 

Let him sleep and the world disappear, leaving only the two of them. Alexander and Clark. . .

***

"Good morning, Sunshine."

"Nrrgh."

Lex's chuckle sounded right next to his ear and Clark groaned.

"Shhh," he whispered, reaching out to pet the man's face. "'m trying to sleep here, Lex."

Another quiet chuckle, and then there was movement. A hand came to rest on Clark's forehead, and he simply leaned into it. Lex was always so cool, he thought. Clark kept his eyes closed in the vain hope that he'd be able to just go back to sleep on top of Lex. Lex, who made a surprisingly comfortable pillow. . .

"You still feel so hot," Lex said quietly, worry tinging his words.

"I'm always hot," Clark whispered. He snuggled closer, moving his head so that his cheek rested on Lex's chest. 

"But are you always this hot? You feel warmer than you did yesterday even."

"I'll be. . . fine," he replied around a yawn. "I'm always fine."

Lex's body tensed a bit, his breathing speeding up. "No, you're not," he said definitively. "Everyone falls down, Kal. Even you."

Clark sighed, realizing going back to sleep wasn't an option anymore.

"I'll be okay, I promise-- "

"Stop it," Lex interrupted. He moved his hand from Clark's forehead to his mouth, silencing him. And his hand was so cool, such a relief against Clark's hot face. . . "You should stay here for awhile. Rest up. I'll call in to The Planet for you. Tell them you're sick." Lex's body relaxed and he moved his hand away from Clark's mouth. It slithered its way across Clark's neck and shoulders, finally stopping on his lower back. "Wouldn't be much of a lie at all, in fact," he chuckled.

"I can still go in," Clark argued. "I'll be fine once I get up. I just need. . . a few more minutes to sleep, and it'll be good." 

"Kal," Lex said, in that tone of voice that meant he wanted him to look up. Slitting his eyes open warily, Clark turned his neck so he could meet Lex's eyes without having to lift his head from the man's chest.

"Yeah?" he asked hesitantly.

Lex's eyes were a soft grey in the morning light, nearly colorless. His brow was creased in apparent concern and the small scar on his upper lip was a white slash across the seam of his pursed mouth.

"You're sick. Stay. You can miss one day and still be a better reporter than all those other buffoons combined."

Clark breathed heavily through his nose, closing his eyes in frustration. "It's not about that. I am fine; I don't need to take a day off."

"Have you ever felt like this before? Do you know for a fact that you'll get better, or are you just guessing? Hoping. . . " 

Kal pushed up onto his arms, moving away from Lex so he could sit up and look at him. Lex was still sprawled out haphazardly on the sofa, his arms and legs spilled across the dark leather like silk sashes. Kal turned his mind away from that line of thinking, focusing instead on the smug look on the man's face, the rise and arch of his cocked eyebrow, the tilt of his head that said Lex knew unequivocally he was in the right.

But he wasn't.

"I feel fine now," Kal said in a monotone. "You don't need to worry."

Lex just smirked and moved his body into a full-out stretch. Kal watched and refused to take the bait. Refused to be distracted or played.

"What time is it?" he asked, turning his head away under the pretense of searching for a clock.

"Seven," Lex said, in a small voice. When Kal turned back to look at him, he saw Lex's expression had changed, shifted back into that ever-so-aloof mask he usually wore. "You're welcome to use the shower if you like. I don't have to go in at all today, so there's no rush on my part." He made as if to get up, but stopped when Clark's hand lighted on his chest. Slowly those sad grey eyes drifted up to Clark's, meeting his stare in confusion.

"I guess one day won't hurt," Clark said, putting all his apology into his eyes. "Might even make them appreciate me more, having to put up with Lois all day and no Kent-leash in sight." His hand smoothed across Lex's chest almost lazily, and Clark felt like he was still dreaming.

Lex's lips quirked, his forehead smoothed out and his body relaxed back against the sofa again. One of his hands came up and covered Clark's, both now resting over his heart, and even without super-hearing Clark thought he could hear it speed up.

"Always leave them wanting more," Lex said, that little smirk punctuating his words. 

Clark nodded and deliberately maintained eye contact as he stretched out again. He slithered up Lex's body, rubbing and pressing himself down onto him while staring into his eyes. And gradually that smirk was replaced with something clearer, a look that spoke of wanting and need and nothing of hurt.

Lex licked his lips and Clark's eyes were drawn to that small scar. He leaned in, and in one swift move pressed his mouth against Lex's. Lex's arms came around him almost immediately and Clark fought a triumphant smile.

"You're such a tease," Lex whispered into his mouth and Clark sighed out a laugh. A hand twined its way into his hair, and when Clark pulled away a little to meet Lex's eyes he saw that the man's pupils had dilated. The shifting color was only a thin ring around the deep black of Lex's pupils, and Clark grinned.

"Who says I'm teasing?" he rasped, sliding his hand between their bodies. Lex's chest, Lex's stomach, Lex's hip. . . Lex pressing hard against his hand. Clark gently cupped him, the thin material of those expensive pants proving little barrier to his movements.

"You'd. . . " Lex stopped, gasping in a brief moment of incoherence. His eyes widened, the whites showing briefly before they slid half-shut. "You'd better not be," he continued. 

Clark squeezed a little, his hand slowly beginning to slide up and down. Lex dropped his head back down against the arm of the sofa, eyes finally closing all the way as he emitted a low moan.

Clark leaned down, following him and pushing his face close to Lex's. He moved his lips to Lex's cheek and began mouthing kisses back towards his ear. "I wanted you even then," he whispered, smiling against Lex's skin when he suddenly jerked his hips up and moaned again. "I wanted you all to myself, and I hated everyone you looked at."

"Kal," Lex whispered, grabbing at him desperately. He moved both hands up to Clark's cheeks and forced his head up. Lex pushed and bullied his way into Clark's mouth, his tongue fluttering and twisting around Clark's own. He pressed forward into Clark's hand, and Clark could feel Lex's eyelashes against his cheek, fluttering just like his tongue.

"Come here," Lex gasped, tearing his mouth away and panting in Clark's ear.

"I am here," he replied. "I'm right here, Lex." And proved it by unzipping Lex's pants. He slipped the button free and moved his head back just enough to see Lex's eyes as he pushed his hand inside.

"No, move over," Lex said, and Clark couldn't resist chuckling at the imperious demand in his voice. Lex moved Clark with his hands, shifting them slightly to the side and running his eyes over Clark's body. "I want to see you."

"And here I am," he murmured. Clark closed his eyes when his fingers touched Lex's cock. Hard and hot and so smooth. Lex went rigid for a second, then pushed forward. He slid his hands along Clark's sides, bunching up the fabric of his shirt and laying cool hands on his stomach.

"And how do you think I felt when I gave you advice?" Lex said. He pinned Clark down by his shoulders, shifting and slithering himself up on top of him and pinning him there too. Leaning forward, Lex said into his ear -- hot puffs of air accentuating every word -- "How much do you think I hated her? Hated every breath you took to say her name?"

"God, Lex!" he gasped, as that clever hand squeezed him right back. Lex ran a single finger up and down the length of Clark's cock and it felt like a million might-have-been's all coming true at once. 

"I hate her," Lex snarled into his ear. "I hate everything that kept you away from me."

Clark took a deep breath and started pumping his hand faster along Lex. He slipped around the head of his cock, rubbing and smoothing and bringing him back. Lex bucked into his palm, his breath rushing out like a freight train. 

"I love you," Clark whispered so lowly he knew Lex couldn't possibly hear it. Lex was working at Clark's fly in jerky motions, almost ripping at it in his haste to get it open. 

"Sit up," Lex ordered. "I want to see all of you. Take off your shirt."

Clark smiled and pushed Lex back with his shoulders. His hand slipped out of Lex's pants, and Lex himself slid further down Clark's body, ending up sitting on his thighs as Clark tugged his shirt off.

"There," he said, watching as Lex's mouth dropped open. 

Lex stretched a hand out, skimming it along Clark's chest and stomach. He licked his lips again, and Clark darted forward to lick at that scar. 

"Mmph!" Lex grunted. His hand was trapped between them and Clark suddenly thought it only fair that he get to see all of Lex, too. Taking him by the shoulders, Clark met Lex's dazed eyes with a grin.

"Your turn," he told him, as he began unbuttoning Lex's shirt. Lex looked down at Clark's hands for a second before raising his eyes up in amusement.

"You certainly learned how to share," Lex said.

Clark just laughed and finished off the buttons. Pulling the fabric away, he gazed at Lex in awe so long that finally the man sighed and slipped his arms out of the fabric himself.

Lex was perfect, Clark thought. Smooth and firm like he'd been sculpted out of stone, but yielding to his touch, too. Even the stark contrast of scars against his skin didn't ruin the perfection. Pale, old ones and heartbreakingly pink ones and Clark rested his hand against one puckered spot low on Lex's belly. A pale pink circle, raised and hot under his palm. A gunshot wound, closed over and healed, but looking up, not forgotten, Clark realized.

"When was this?" he asked in a low voice.

Lex dropped his head, his eyes staring at Clark's hand where it pressed against his stomach.

"Two years ago. Some kid upset about his father being laid off." Lex's voice was monotone, no inflection or emotion apparent at all. But with Lex, no emotion was emotion. Still and cold and separate meant hurt and wounded, and Clark waited until Lex looked up again.

"And he shot you, and yet you still feel like the one to blame." Lex frowned and tried to turn away, but Clark put a hand on his cheek. "And that's why you're a good man, Lex. Because you feel so much for everyone, and you never let them know." He brought his other hand up, cupping Lex's face in his hands and staring into his eyes. 

Lex just looked at him in confusion. He scoffed, tried to turn away, licked his lips again in an attempt to distract Clark. He brought his own hands up and pushed at Clark's, scowled and huffed and tried his best to ignore what had been said. And Clark just waited.

"What a mood killer this was," Lex muttered. "Next time, I won't take my shirt off."

"No, next time you'll just try to piss me off." He leaned in, pressed his lips against Lex's. Clark waited, felt like he'd been waiting for this forever, for Lex to drop his act and just let go. 

"You're full of shit," Lex snarled into his mouth. He grabbed Clark by the wrists and jerked his hands away from his face. "Who says I felt anything for that stupid prick? He deserved what he got, fucking with a Luthor. I don't regret a single thing about it. I don't, Clark!"

Lex's eyes widened comically, as if he just realized what he'd said. Clark just smiled, turned his arms in Lex's grip and grabbed his wrists right back. He lifted their arms up quick, bringing them above their heads and pressing his body forward. Lex was still sitting on Clark's legs, and the dragging up of his arms forced him chest to chest with Clark.

"You're a tease," Lex said. "All this, and you're still playing."

Clark grinned and lifted his eyebrows, watching Lex's expression turn suspicious. Then, in one swift move, he fell back on the sofa, Lex falling on top of him with a gasp of surprise. Clark was flat on his back, Lex fully on top of him. As they'd fallen, their hands had slipped, and now Lex's face was barely an inch away from Clark's. Their eyes were lined up, their mouths and chests. Their cocks. One of Lex's legs was between Clark's, and slowly -- so very slowly -- Lex brought it up. He stared at Clark, almost daring him to say something, and began rubbing his leg over Clark's crotch.

And Clark just kept on smiling. 

"You're a good man," he said again, just to see Lex scowl.

Lex darted his head in and took Clark's mouth in a harsh kiss. He moved his leg back and forth, rubbing and rubbing, while grinding his own erection into Clark's hip.

It began to slip away, and Clark just rode that wave of ecstasy. Lex finally gave up his grip on Clark's wrists in a sudden flurry of movement. He reached down and shoved his hands into Clark's pants, wrapping his hands around his cock and pumping.

"Oh, my God. . . " Clark mumbled. He moved his hands under Lex, scrambling for that hot part of him and encircling it with his fist.

"Yes, yes, yes. . . " Lex chanted in little whispers. Clark wanted so very much to see him come, but he couldn't keep his eyes open. They were building towards something. . . and Clark had the thought that it was like he and Lex were climbing up some high mountain together, almost to the top-- 

And he just managed to open his eyes and meet Lex's before the world opened up and swallowed him. He saw Lex throw his head back and cry out, his body one drawn out exclamation point.

"Clark!" he shouted, body going taut and stretched before slumping down onto Clark's chest in a sprawl of bent arms and sweat.

"I love you," Clark whispered again. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he breathed along Lex's head.

And it was only seven in the morning.


	15. Fourteen

Afterward, he let Kal fall back to sleep and gently shifted off him. And on his way back from the bathroom a few minutes later, Lex paused, glancing down at Kal on the sofa -- looking just as pale as he had yesterday.

He was. . . worried. No powers? No incredible, life-saving powers at all, and Kal was sound asleep on Lex's sofa again.

Something was definitely wrong.

Lex laid a careful hand on Kal's forehead and wasn't in the least surprised to find it hot and clammy to the touch.

"Fallunsay."

And Lex wondered what that meant. Kal's forehead creased in anguish and he started shifting on the cushions, his body twitching this way and that. Lex leaned down and whispered into his ear, "What? What's wrong, Kal?"

"Fallunsay var ernesh. . . " Kal mumbled. "Lan yas. . . eeyed Krypton. . . dayee el par."

Lex frowned and bent closer, his lips finding their way to Kal's cheek unconsciously. "Oh, Clark," he whispered, deliberately pressing another kiss against Kal's cheekbone. 

There was a low moan from the body beneath him, and Lex felt a hand come to rest on his hip. Looking down, he saw Kal's eyes open and looking up at him.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked.

Lex smiled. "Only a few minutes," he answered. He raised an eyebrow. "You talk in your sleep, you know."

Kal's eyes widened and he sucked in a deep breath. "I do?" His voice was a bit wavery, and Lex shifted to sit down beside him on the edge of the sofa.

He lifted a hand to trace down Kal's face, focusing on it as he replied, "Mmm-hmm. But. . . " he hesitated. And meeting Kal's eyes, he said carefully, "It wasn't English you were speaking."

A line appeared between Kal's eyebrows and his mouth pursed in consternation. Lex breathed deeply in a conscious attempt to dampen the sudden urge he had to swoop down and kiss those soft lips. 

"Then what. . . " Kal started, but drifted off as he eventually realized what Lex meant. He turned his head away abruptly, jerking it to the side as shock registered on his face.

Lex just sighed again and leaned back up. He rested an arm against the back of the sofa and waited for Kal to say something.

After a moment wherein no words were forthcoming, Lex finally broke the silence with, "It sounds like a beautiful language. Was it difficult to learn?"

Kal turned back to him, frown firmly affixed to his face. "I-- no," he said, obvious confusion coloring his tone. "I didn't really 'study' it per se. It was just. . . downloaded into me. . . in a way." His voice fell off at the end, and Lex felt like smiling.

But he refrained. Wouldn't do to scare him away now, would it, Luthor? he thought.

"Interesting way of putting it," Lex added, shifting to brace himself a little more securely. It put him a little closer to Kal, the move drawing another widening of the eyes from the man.

Alien, Lex's mind corrected. Not born here, not of this world.

Inhumanly beautiful. Lex looked deep into those green eyes and thought, perfect.

***

Tomorrow started patrol around seven o'clock that night, thirteen minutes after another testing of the state of his abilities. The flight was back, finally, and Kal wasted no time in catching up on his duties. 

He quickly checked in on both Pete and Chloe, then rushed west to Colorado. Lingering above the crowded streets, he quietly observed Mark Poppe stepping inside his home. The man dropped his keys in a bowl near the door, then called out, smiling, "Girls, I'm home!" At which point, little Laura came running out of the kitchen. Lana slowed and watched from the doorway, as Mark picked his daughter up and hugged her close in his arms.

Tomorrow took off back towards Metropolis, rushing through a storm near Omaha and saving a woman from being trapped in her car as the flood waters rose high. He dropped her off at the nearest hospital, but not before she grabbed his arm tight and kissed his cheek."Thank you," she sobbed, her tears marking his face. They dried as he pushed higher into the sky.

Approaching the city limits, Tomorrow slowed down, reaching out with his hearing and waiting for something wrong.

A scream in the Slums made him whip off in that direction. He gathered speed again, slipping down close to the streets and letting himself be seen. He'd found that if he remained lower, let people see him and point, then there tended to be fewer crimes -- not necessarily in Suicide Slums or the southern part of Metropolis in general, but then. . . crime never stopped there. At least downtown, when Tomorrow could be spotted flying overhead, those petty thieves, soon-to-be-rapists, and all manner of "dangerous types" thought twice about committing a crime. Maybe they figured out that it just wasn't worth it. He sometimes imagined that after he flew by, some crooked guy straightened his life out -- got a job and an apartment, met someone he'd die for, voted and payed taxes and learned to enjoy what he could earn, instead of what he could take.

It was sometimes comforting, but most of the time it just made him feel even sadder.

When he got closer to the screaming, he surveyed the area, looking for those involved, those unaware. . . those determinedly ignoring the entire scene. Tomorrow landed on the roof overlooking the alley and stood on the edge looking down. 

"I don't think you're going to find whatever it is you're looking for," he said, using the natural acoustics of the concrete and brick alleyway to best effect. 

Both figures looked up, and Tomorrow realized he hadn't assessed the situation correctly. Sloppy, he chided himself.

The woman was working class, as evidenced by her worn black sneakers and waitress' nametag. She was pushed up against a dumpster and there were tears rolling down her face. Her make-up was smeared, and she was clutching her purse tight to her chest as if it were the only thing in the world. 

And the aggressor. . . well, he'd thought it was just a man before, but when Tomorrow looked closer, he saw metal and. . . lead. That man down there was wearing a lead body suit, and Tomorrow rose off the ledge and drifted down into the alley itself. He landed in a puddle and frowned, trying once more to see through the disguise.

Nothing. It was lead, and he looked up at the mask's eyes.

"Will you leave. . . or do I have to take you to the police?" Tomorrow asked. He locked all speculation and worry away, instead focusing only on the woman's terror, the position of the man's body as he gripped her.

"Oh, you're welcome to try," chuckled a voice. It was tinny and echoed strangely, and Tomorrow hated it the minute he heard it.

It also sounded somehow familiar, and the worry rose up again.

Tomorrow sighed, then sped right up close to the man, reaching out and grabbing the arm holding the woman up. He swung it away from her, turning the man around and holding both his arms away from his body. But when he slowed again, when he let time resume as normal, Tomorrow wasn't cursed or yelled at. He wasn't sworn revenge upon like so many other times.

No, when he looked up, he was met with a mechanic gaze, eyes of light and a face of red and black metal. And then the eerie voice began laughing and Tomorrow flinched back unconsciously. 

"Oh, you're gonna like this present even more than the last one, I'm sure!" the voice cackled. 

"What-- ?" he started to ask, but there was no time to finish.

The voice shouted, "R-67 Beam!" And suddenly there was a red warmth creeping down the arms of the suit. It flowed and pulsed across the metal, and soon it was lapping against Tomorrow's arms where he gripped the suited man. Then all at once, it rushed over him, like a flare of the sun right in his head -- red and yellow and dragging away all. . . taking all his strength with it as it receded.

He screamed, still holding the man's mechanical arms as he fell to his knees in the alley. 

"Run!" he screamed, his last effort at saving the poor woman. But he couldn't hear her run away, couldn't tell if she'd gone. . . he couldn't hear her. . .

" --now doesn't that feel nice?" the voice crooned. "No more worries for you! Just relax and enjoy the ride, space-man!" Then with a final high-pitched cackle, the man pushed Tomorrow's hands off his arms and moved away. 

And without something to brace himself on, Tomorrow collapsed, only just barely managing to keep his head out of the puddle beneath him at the last moment. What-- he thought. What-- what. . . happened? I can't-- I can't. . . 

***

He'd dragged himself over to the side at least. Up against the brick building he could breathe, could even sit up straight enough that he could think.

"Lex," he breathed out.

"Anomalistic readings, Kal-El," the AI proclaimed into his ear. "Severe and prolonged exposure to red sunlight rays and-- "

Red sunlight, he thought in dread. Like that of. . . old Krypton, where his people hadn't been super-powered beings, but people much like Earth's average citizen. Too much red sunlight, and now he was. . . weak, tired. 

Without his powers for the second time in a week. 

"Run all images from video-feed and determine if red sunlight was in evidence at sight of Parasite defeat. Send results to. . . " he broke off, trying to think of how long it would take him to get back to his apartment. He'd left in Tomorrow's suit, so there were no clothes strategically-placed anywhere in the city. He'd have to get back there somehow on his own -- as Tomorrow, walking, and in the heart of the Slums. 

But who else was--

Okay, Kal thought. If he called. . . someone, then they could come and get him. Pete knew, Whitney knew. But he didn't know either of their phone numbers, he rationalized to himself. 

"Send results of scan to port 37 computer. . . and dial Luthor Towers, penthouse," he whispered, and waited for the AI to complete the action. There was a ringing in his ear and he held his breath, hoping Lex was there, that he wasn't gone or at some fundraiser--

"Lex Luthor," came a voice on the other end and Clark breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Hey," he rasped. "I-- I need a ride home. Can you come get me?"

***

He'd told him. He'd said, "Don't go in today. Don't go to work. Stay here with me."

Well, okay, he hadn't said those words exactly, but Lex was sure Kal had gotten the message nonetheless. And he'd called in for him, told some lady at the front desk of the paper that Mister Clark Kent would not be coming in to work today. Family emergency, Lex had said, and left it at that.

But then the evening had come and Kal had left, insisting he was fine, that he had some things he needed to check on. He wouldn't be deterred and Lex had sighed in frustration before moving forward and kissing Kal stupid.

"You call me," he'd said. "I don't want to hear about some disaster on the news a week from now, and have that be the next time I get to see you." Then he'd grabbed him up again, pulled him close and just hung on for a minute. 

"I will," Kal had said seriously. He'd met Lex's eyes no problem, and Lex was pleased to see it was the truth. Kal hadn't been lying then, when he'd said he would call. And obviously he'd kept to his word, since Lex was now speeding like a madman towards the Slums. 

He'd picked the Lamborghini for the roof and tinted windows. He'd tried to keep Kal on the line but not two seconds after Lex had agreed to come and pick him up, Kal had hung up. 

Lex neared an intersection that would take him over the Radley Bridge. . . and from there straight into Suicide Slums. Screw the light, Lex thought, pushing on the gas and running the red light amidst honks and angry shouts. Something important here. Something more important than any of them can claim. 

Jefferson, he read. Frange, Ellis, Varen, Whelchel. He sped past the side streets, only slowing when he could make out the street sign for Hansen.

"Hansen and Horn," Kal had whispered. "South-east, second alley." There'd been a pause, and then he'd gone on to say, "Fourth dumpster. I'll stand up when I hear you."

Lex slowly turned into the alley, the brief thought of nails and other sharp objects puncturing his tires flitting by. One, two, three, he counted as he crawled past the dumpsters. Fou-- 

And there was Kal. There was Tomorrow, wedged between the filthy brick and the foul dumpster bin and looking half-dead.

Lex stopped the car, jumping out and rushing over to Kal. 

"Jesus, are you alright?!" Lex asked, bringing his hands up to Kal's arms and looking up into his face.

He could tell Kal tried to smile, but the expression that came over his face looked pained and brave. Lex slid an arm around Kal's shoulders, tugging him gently forward.

"I'll be okay. . . " he heard Kal whisper. "'m just tired, 's all."

Lex braced as much of Kal as he could, slowly walking them over to the idling car. "I know," he replied softly. He managed to get the passenger side door open with little trouble -- simply held Kal next to the car with a hand and the proper angle -- and somehow wrangled Kal inside easily, as well. Shutting the door then, Lex raced around the front of the Lamborghini and slid into the driver's seat with a rush of air. He reached over and buckled Kal's seatbelt, for no other purpose than reassuring himself that Kal was still in one piece. If a little. . . weird.

Lex backed out of the alley, swerving it around and then sliding it forward when he changed gears. He kept stealing glances at Kal on the way, looking for a clue as to what had happened.

Why he'd needed to be rescued.

Lex didn't go to Kal's apartment, even though he'd found out where it was. Instead, he raced back across town, a little slower than his mad dash to pick Kal up, but not by much.

About half a mile from the Towers, Lex looked over and was met with Kal's tired gaze.

"Thank you," Kal whispered. 

And Lex held those eyes for as long as he could and still be able to drive. Finally, though, he had to turn his head back to the street, spotting the turnoff to his private parking garage up ahead on the left.

"You're welcome," Lex replied, turning the steering wheel in one swift motion.


	16. Fifteen

Kal was heavy, that was for sure, but it was a different kind of heavy. His weight wasn't centered in the same places as others, it seemed like. His arms and legs felt more solid, more compact, but his torso was. . . light, surprisingly weightless. 

Lex had never really noticed just how skinny Kal actually was, but trying to manhandle him, first out of the car, and then over to the elevator, made him realize how very little there actually was to the guy. Kal was tall, most definitely, but he wasn't bulky. In fact, he was kinda gangly. Slender, if you will. 

It was strange the places his mind decided to go when stressed. 

The elevator doors pinged open, and Lex bent down to shrug his arm under Kal's legs. He picked him up with a grunt and quickly strode over to his door. He saw too late that he'd have to set him down again to get into his penthouse, and cursed his luck. He'd been doing just fine, but having to unlock the damn door was going to mess everything up. 

Kal moaned in his arms, and Lex glanced down at him as he braced himself against the wall. He frantically searched his pockets, finally coming up with the little locking device in his right pants pocket. 

"Hang on," he told him quietly. "We're almost there. Just a-- " and he jabbed the button fiercely, the door clicking open. "Just a moment, and you'll be okay." Lex shouldered the door open, swinging Kal through it and hustling as fast as he could over to the sofa. He set him down gently, the act taking a lot of effort, but he managed it. 

Breathing in and out heavily, Lex dropped to his knees and brought his hands up to Kal's face. He'd slipped into unconsciousness in the car, but the moan in the hallway might have heralded him coming to. 

"Hey," Lex whispered, pushing the hair out of Kal's eyes. "God, what happened?" he asked rhetorically. "You were just getting better. . . " 

He kneeled like that for another moment, before coming to the conclusion that Kal needed something besides just to lie down. Lex had an idea, and would need to put Kal in the other room if he wanted to keep everything still a secret. 

Taking a deep breath, Lex got to his feet and bent over to shift Kal into his arms again. 

"Jesus!" he gritted out, staggering down the hall to his bedroom. Once inside, he set Kal down on the bed before dropping down next to him. "This is not how I saw this evening playing out," he said to his unconscious companion. "True," Lex said. "We are in the bedroom together, but one of us is injured and passed out. And for once it's not me," he mused. 

Rolling into a sitting position, Lex reached into his other pocket for his phone. Extracting it, he pushed the speed dial for downstairs and listened to it ring twice. 

"Yes, sir?" a male voice asked. 

"I need the lamps up here. Now." 

There was a pause, then the man asked hesitantly, "In-- in your apartment, sir?" 

"Yes," Lex gritted out. "Here, now. Five of them." He paused. "As few people as possible." Then he ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Looking back over at Kal, he realized what he'd have to do. 

"Well, at least this won't be the first time I've seen you naked," he told him. 

***

The heavy lifting was finally over. For now. And Lex collapsed into a chair some distance from the closest lamp. God, it's bright in here, he thought. Then chuckled. All the better to heal you with, my dear, he mentally added. 

The UV lamps normally kept in the basement storage circled and enclosed Kal's naked form. Hopefully, with enough sunlight, any damage Kal had suffered would be reversed. Now they just had to wait and see. 

Around three, Kal started moaning again, and by four-thirty he was shifting his limbs subtly. Lex turned one lamp off, so he could get close to him, and took up one of his hands. 

Ten minutes later, Kal opened his eyes and Lex breathed deeply for what felt like the first time in hours. 

"Lex?" Kal rasped.

"Yeah," he assured him. 

"Where-- ?" his eyes moved around the room, and he frowned, his hand gripping Lex's tighter. "Where are we?" 

"My penthouse," Lex told him. He squeezed Kal's hand reassuringly. "I had these brought up from one of the greenhouse storage units downstairs. Is it working?" he asked. "Do you feel any better?" 

Kal closed his eyes again before nodding. "Yeah," he whispered on a sigh. "Much." 

"Good then," he said, shifting in his seat and relaxing back.

They were silent then for a time, but eventually Lex noticed Kal's lips moving slightly and with no sound coming out. 

"Kal?" he asked, and watched as his eyes opened again, "everything okay?" 

Kal's mouth twitched into a crooked smile, and he nodded a little. "It's the AI," he told Lex. "I have it in my ear." 

Lex raised his eyebrows. "All the time, or. . . ?" And he let the question hang. 

"No, just when I'm. . . out and about," Kal answered. He looked away, his eyes seeming to focus on one of the lamps. "It was going over what happened." 

"What did happen?" he asked quietly. Kal met his eyes, and Lex tightened his grip on his hand at the naked fear he saw there. 

"I don't know," Kal said. He shook his head angrily, and his hair rasped against the pillow Lex had placed under his head. "He knew, Lex. He knew. . . everything, and he used it against me." 

"What do you mean 'knew?'" 

"What makes me weak," Kal replied. "He had. . . some kind of device that. . . pulsed rays of red sunlight into me." Lex felt his mouth open in shock. "Who would know about that, Lex? Who? I never told anybody about that." He turned his head away. 

"Well, I think you just told me," Lex said after a minute. He chuckled a little hysterically, and Kal looked over at him. 

"I s'pose I did, didn't I?" he asked rhetorically. And it wasn't Lex's imagination that he was smiling. 

"I hate apples," Lex said deadpan, and Kal actually laughed. 

"What?" he asked. "Where'd that come from?" And Kal's hand shifted to grip Lex's more tightly. 

"Well," he said, shrugging, "I can't say I'm allergic to anything because I'm not. And saying one of my weaknesses is being shot seems ridiculous." He smiled. "So. . . I hate apples, Kal," he repeated. "I doubt anyone knows that, so at least it's a secret." 

"The meteor rock hurts me," Kal said, and Lex nodded. 

He stared unflinchingly into those eyes and replied, "I already knew that." 

But Kal just smiled again. "And I'm glad you do," he told him. Lex blinked and stiffened his jaw. 

"I did horrible things," he confessed quietly. He could feel Kal's eyes still on him, but Lex dropped his eyes down to their entwined hands. "I worked for my father for three years, and I did nearly everything he asked of me." 

Silence again, and then Kal's quiet voice asked, "'Nearly?'" 

Lex raised his head. There was no judgement in those green eyes looking back at him, no condemnation or disappointment. Just Kal. 

Just. . . Clark, his friend. 

"I never gave up," Lex said.

And Clark's smile was all the assurance he'd ever need that he, Lex Luthor, was actually. . . loved. 

For just who he was. 

***

They turned the lamps off around nine in the morning, and Kal sat in an armchair pulled up to the open windows. Lex didn't even bother calling into his own work, and Kal said he didn't really care what Lex told the Planet. 

Lex made them breakfast, just eggs, but Kal said they were the best thing he'd ever tasted. Lex called him a liar and Kal just laughed. 

"So," Lex said, sometime in the afternoon. As the sun shifted in the sky, so had they. They moved from Lex's bedroom, to his office with its skylight, and were now just settling back into the living room, where the whole western wall was made up of windows. "Any new developments?" 

Kal shook his head, already knowing what Lex was talking about. "No," he replied, and there was a hint of anger in his voice. "I don't even know where to begin." 

"Start with what you've done in the past few weeks. Anything unusual?" At Kal's disbelieving look, he quickly went on. "I mean, anything weirder than the normal crazy stuff you deal with?" 

"The Parasite," Kal immediately responded. He met Lex's eyes, frowning. "The explosion before that." 

"The one down in the warehouse district?" 

Kal nodded. "Yeah, on the night when we. . . ate dinner together." 

It had been their first dinner together, the first time they'd spoken to each other in over seven years. And Lex remembered the sound and reverberations of the explosion interrupting them, the way Kal had still physically been in the room with him, but, mentally, had been far away as soon as it occurred. 

"And last night?" Lex asked delicately. "What happened then?" 

Kal turned his head back to the window, but Lex could see his frustration in the reflection of his face. 

"A man, in a suit -- a lead body suit -- was attacking a woman," he said. "I. . . interceded, and that's when he hit me with the red sunlight." He glanced at Lex. "You think there's some connection?" 

"Between all three?" Lex asked, and Kal nodded, looking outside again. "I honestly have no clue, but have you found any other explanation?" 

"No," Kal answered. "Nothing." 

"Then maybe it is all related," Lex suggested. "After all, you were hurt last night. You were weak and powerless after fighting the Parasite." He looked at Kal carefully, before asking, "Does that happen a lot? Do you. . . often get incapacitated?" 

Kal shook his head, eyes still staring out the window. "No, hardly ever." He suddenly turned and looked at Lex. "Never like this, either. Usually, back. . . in Smallville, it was always because of the meteorite. The Kryptonite." And Lex raised his eyebrows questioningly. 

"'Kryptonite?'" he repeated. "Is that its real name?" 

Kal nodded. "Yeah," he said. "It's what's left of the planet I was born on." 

And he didn't say anything more, just turned his head again, but Lex could fill in the blanks. Kryptonite, radioactive pieces of the planet Krypton, and evidently one of the very few things that could hurt Kal. 

His own homeworld, become a weapon against him, and Lex thought it an overly painful irony. 

Clark had done nothing wrong. In history, and in plays and dramas, it was always a person's flaw that sealed their doom. Like Oedipus and his hubris, the destruction of all great men and women always seemed to already lie within themselves. Why, then, was Kal being punished for, what? Living when others did not? 

Fate was a bitch, and even though destiny had brought the two of them together, Lex found himself cursing it, as well. 

Who needed enemies, when even the universe conspired against you? 

Lex reached out and set his hand on Kal's shoulder. 

"Hey," he said, "You wanna try and make some tiramisu? I think I have all the ingredients here already. . . " 

Kal smiled and turned his eyes on Lex. "And destroy Beth's beautiful, spotless kitchen?" He waited a beat, then said, complete with wicked grin, "Sure. Lead on, sir." 

"Now don't you start that," Lex complained. "I get enough of that 'sir' and 'Mr. Luthor' stuff at work." 

"Whatever you say. . . sir," Kal replied. But he lingered over the last word, drawing it out and saying it in a deep baritone. 

Lex stood and looked down at him. "Now I know you're feeling better." 

And Kal just smiled that Clark smile again, and stood up.


	17. Sixteen

It never failed to amuse Lex. Granted, it'd only happened a few times over the years, but this particular occurrence was even more awkward and surrealistic than all the others combined.

There were now technically three Alexes in one room. Lex felt like chortling every time someone addressed one of them.

Surnames were good, though. "Mr. Luthor" this, and "Mr. Allston" that. "Ms. Allston," please sign here and so on. Upon introducing themselves, though, Lex had caught Alex Allston's fleeting grin and his sister's stifled snort. It was a start.

The Allston twins were nothing like Lex. Their company was small, and where Lionel had always cultivated the impression of Luthorcorp as eternal and ancient, the Allstons readily admitted they were new money. They were also famous not for excess, but the exact opposite. Lex couldn't honestly ever remember seeing the Allston name in a tabloid or hearing it gossiped about as part of some scandal. About the only thing even remotely outrageous was the twins' long ago decision towards joint ownership and operation of Allston Inc. Even that wasn't totally unheard of these days.

After most of the broader points had been set down and agreed to and signed off on, Lex summarily dismissed all the lackeys and assistants he plausibly could. Then leaning back in his chair, he smiled as Alex Allston followed suit, merely waving his hand a few times to send away the majority of his and his sister's entourage. It left only the three of them, Lex's personal assistant Lanie, and the Allston's equivalent PA, Derrick.

"You're sure you have the facilities for this?" Lex asked bluntly.

Alex moved back in his chair too, folding his arms across his chest and meeting Lex's eyes unflinchingly. Next to him, Alexandra licked her lips but otherwise remained still. Lex didn't know if that stillness were an act, or just how the woman was, but it was nonetheless unsettling.

"We have an agreement with S.T.A.R. Labs," Alex responded, his accent making the name somehow foreign and ominous. "Many of our researchers are also employed at the Labs. It's completely solid."

"Right," Lex replied, letting his skepticism show on his face as well as in his voice. "It's not that I doubt your-- "

"But you do," Alexandra interrupted smoothly. She was still leaning over the large boardroom table, elbows braced on the polished surface, and switching his gaze from her brother to her, Lex wondered if the twins' positioning were deliberate. For it seemed every time Alex moved forward in his chair, Alexandra moved back, and vice versa. They never blocked each other, not visually or verbally. Not once during the meeting had either of them contradicted or interrupted the other. It was like a dance.

"You very obviously do, Mr. Luthor," Alexandra continued. She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head to the side and simply looking right back at him.

"If I'd been allowed to finish," Lex said, raising his own eyebrows back at her, "I would have clarified that it's not your dedication to the project which concerns me. What concerns me is the sheer scale of this undertaking in comparison to the relative size of your company."

Alexandra rolled her eyes and collapsed back in her chair, crossing her arms exactly like her brother. And like it was choreographed, Alex in turn leaned forward, taking up his sister's posture precisely, even down to the curled left hand resting next to his elbow.

It was eerie, but utterly fascinating. Lex hadn't ever really interacted with any twins before. He wondered if they were all like this to some degree, synchronized, always on the same page.

Alex sighed. "What is it really, Lex?" he asked. "You want it here, in Metropolis? Is that it?"

"Did I say that?" Lex returned.

Alexandra snorted, but Alex just frowned in confusion.

"Okay," Alex said, "I'll bite. What is the problem? And don't give us that line again about our company being too small. We all know that's not the real issue here."

Lex smiled, rocking his chair back and forth a little, but didn't immediately respond.

After another few seconds of silence, Alexandra suddenly and quite loudly burst out laughing. She tilted her head back and slapped her knee, doing the whole bit. Alex turned to look at her, and if Lex weren't mistaken that was confusion in the man's body language now. Good to know.

"You smug, son-of-a-bitch," Alexandra declared, looking at Lex with something uncomfortably like pride. Alex was still looking at his sister, and after flashing a quick grin at Lex, Alexandra turned back to her brother. "It's a blasted test, you nong," she told him quietly. "He's just wanting to see us spit the dummy." Alexandra glanced over her brother's head. "Isn't that right, Lex?"

"You hit it on the nose," he answered, getting two smiles out of his blatantly poor attempt at their slang. "No offense meant. I just needed to be sure you knew what you were doing."

Both twins looked at him, and Alex's expression turned confused again. "Make sure we weren't, eh, rookies?" he asked.

"Right-o," Lex agreed. The twins, and Derrick farther down the table, laughed.

"That's what the Brits say," Alex corrected him gently.

"Oh, my apologies then," Lex replied, smiling. He stood up and extended his hand towards Alex. "I admit, this is the first time I've ever done business with Aussies."

Alex climbed to his feet too, followed a split second later by his sister. He grabbed up Lex's hand without hesitation and they shook on it.

"Then you haven't really done any business, have you, mate?" Alex joked, thickening and broadening his accent. He let go and moved over for Alexandra to step forward.

"I suppose not," Lex responded, leaving his hand out. After a brief narrow-eyed look, though, Alexandra took his hand and shook it.

Even their handshakes were virtually identical.

***

"Why don't you just come over here and then we order out?" Lex's voice asked across the line. And the man had a point. It would have been easier for them to decide together in person than it was to do it over the phone, but the whole thing was definitely worth it just to hear that whiny note in Lex's voice. He sounded like a little kid who hadn't gotten the right toy for his birthday.

It was hilarious.

"I'm already here," Kal repeated for the umpteenth time. "Just tell me what you want already. You're worse than a child, Lex."

Lex audibly snorted in disdain, but Kal wasn't buying it. Lex was probably openly smiling by now, and just continuing to mess with Kal because he found it funny too. No one ever said their sense of humor wasn't the same. In fact it was probably one of the few things they actually did have in common.

"Something spicy," Lex finally grumped out after a moment. "I'm tired of eating Beth's bland, boring, banal. . . "

"Blah," Kal supplied, to which Lex grunted assent.

"Bare," Lex returned.

"Blasé."

"Ooh, clever. Hmm, blank."

"Bleached?" Clark offered.

Lex 'hmm-ed' again. "Acceptable," he declared a few seconds later. Then followed that with, "Balmy."

"'Balmy?'" Clark repeated. "Nuh-uh. No way."

"It's in the dictionary," Lex argued.

"I don't care if it's in the dictionary. It's not right and you know it." Clark glanced around The Julie, suddenly realizing his voice was about one notch away from too loud. An older couple was looking at him confusedly, and the woman behind him in line quickly turned her head when Clark looked her way.

"Those are the rules, Kal," Lex said haughtily. "We agreed that-- "

"You always did this with Scrabble, too," Clark interrupted. "Every single time-- "

"Oh, it wasn't every time," Lex denied.

"Hey," Clark argued, lowering his voice, "which one of us is better equipped to recall said events?" Lex was quiet, save his breathing, so Clark added, "Trust me on this one, Lex. It was literally every single time."

They were both quiet for a moment, during which time the woman in front of Clark finished paying. He stepped up, smiling at the hostess/cashier, just as Lex piped up with, "It's still not cheating."

Clark sighed. "Okay, whatever you say, honey," he chirped back in a sickly sweet voice. Lex squawked back, while the hostess just grinned at him in what she no doubt mistakenly thought to be understanding. If only. "So," Clark said, backing the conversation up to the beginning. "Something spicy, huh? How 'bout. . . one order of Rattlesnake Pasta-- "

"No onions," Lex reminded him.

" --hold the onions. Two orders of garlic rolls, one Penne all'Arrabbiata, and. . . " Clark hesitated.

"I have wine here," Lex offered quietly.

"I was thinking of dessert, actually," Clark replied.

"Oh, I think we've got that covered as well," was Lex's response, and damn if the leer in his voice didn't make Clark blush. "See, that's where the wine comes into play," Lex added, as though he hadn't already made his point abundantly clear the first time. 

"That's all," Clark told the hostess, wincing at the knowing look she shot him before turning to hand the order off to someone else. Lex was silent all the way through Clark paying and taking a spot on one of the leather benches off to the side, but his breathing let Clark know he was still there.

"So," Clark eventually said, "were you going to finish the sentence with 'breakfast'? Or something else only found in the dictionary?"

Lex harrumphed, and Clark brought a hand up to his mouth in order to stifle his laughter.

"You wound me," Lex accused. "Nothing so predictable or prosaic as that."

"Oh, going for round two, are we?" Clark asked cheekily.

"Brunch," Lex stated, seemingly ignoring Clark's last comment. "The correct answer was brunch."

"Not pedestrian in the least," Clark agreed.

"You're not sneaky at all, you know. I'm on to you. You are completely. . . plain."

"Ha!" Clark crowed. "Plebian. Take that, Luthor!"

"Oh, I'm just getting started, Kent," Lex countered. Clark could easily hear the grin in Lex's voice.

Even if he couldn't see it at the moment.

"You ready for this?" Lex went on, teasing and trash-talking as only a complete nerd could. "Okay, platitudinous."

"Oh, God," Clark groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall behind him. "Um. . . pabulum."

"What?"

"Hey," Clark responded. "It's in the dictionary. Look. It. Up, my friend."

Lex grumbled, then proceeded to outline, point by point, the numerous reasons why he was the victor in both contests. Clark rolled his eyes and played devil's advocate, perfectly aware Lex knew the real score.

Eventually, the food was done, and Clark just smiled when the hostess smirked at him again. It'd been more than half an hour since he'd ordered, and he was still on the phone. Yeah, it didn't get much sweeter than that.

He just wished he could see her face after telling her the truth, wondering which would freak her out more. . . the fact it was a guy he was talking to, or that it was Lex Luthor?

Or that instead of out patrolling, Tomorrow was chatting with his. . . boyfriend. . . because he still couldn't fly.

Or see all the way. Or hear how he was supposed to hear. Or not scrape himself all to hell when tripping on the stairs.

"Kal, you there?"

"Yeah," he answered, juggling his phone, the food, and the hailing of a cab, all like a true city boy. "Just getting a ride now." A taxi pulled up to the curb and Kal opened the door, nodding at the driver as he scooted inside.

"I'll see you soon then," Lex told him, and he didn't think it was his imagination that put a certain note in Lex's voice.

"You too," Clark returned.


End file.
